Classic Poem

A son, a Wife, bad the plain marble rise;
Beneath the sacred shade a good man lies.
In Britain's senate long unblam'd he sate
And anxious trembled for her doubtful fate:
Above all giddy hopes, all selfish ends,
His country was his family and friends.
Children! weep not, thus cruelly bereft;
The fair example of his life is left;
Another far more lasting, safe estate
Than e'er descended from the rich and great;
Their's fall to time or fortune soon a prey;
Or, the poor gift of kings, kings snatch away:
Your blest succession never can be less,
Still as you imitate, you still possess.