Let hireling bards, on splendid marbles, tell
How kings and heroes lived, or how they fell;
To private worth this humble stone we raise,
Inscribed by Friendship with no venal praise.
Profuse in bounty, and in feeling kind,
Was He whose hallowed dust lies here enshrined;
No lure could lead from Honour to depart,
Mild were his manners, tender was his heart.
Joy and good humour filled his honest soul,
When Mirth and Fancy sparkled round the bowl;
And when dull Care sat brooding on the brim,
The recreant fled his merriment and whim.
Friendship shall mourn, and Med'cine long deplore
The heart that glows, the hand that heals, no more;
Whilst every reader joins the general tear,
For gentle, generous Stevenson lies here.