EPITAPH
ON
A
PEASANT
.
BY
THE
SAME
.
THE
Swain
who
own'd
yon
rural
cot
Now
lies
near
this
sequester'd
spot
.
With
his
industrious
faithful
wife
He
trod
the
path
of
humble
life
,
Nor
knew
the
sorrows
which
await
The
trifling
revels
of
the
great
:
Here
village
lads
at
evening
hour
Shall
strew
the
lately
gather'd
flower
,
And
pensive
nymphs
assemble
here
,
To
shed
a
sympathetic
tear
.
O
Stranger
!
thy
sad
tribute
give
,
Like
Damon
die
,
like
Damon
live
!
For
Virtue
lasting
plaudit
gains
,
When
freed
from
these
terrestrial
plains
.