Classic Poem

When , to their airy hall, my fathers' voice
Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice;
When, poised upon the gale, my form shall ride,
Or, dark in mist, descend the mountain's side;
Oh! may my shade behold no sculptured urns
To mark the spot where earth to earth returns!
No lengthen'd scroll, no praise-encumber'd stone;
My epitaph shall be my name alone;
If that with honour fail to crown my clay,
Oh may no other fame my deeds repay!
That , only that , shall single out the spot;
By that remember'd, or with that forgot.
1803.