To deck lamented SIMCOE’S hallow’d tomb,
Bid all thy laurels, sacred Honour, bloom!
Depriv’d BRITANNIA, o’er thy warrior’s bier
Veil the droop’d head and bend the inverted spear!
Genius and Art, your greenest wreaths bestow,
And here, Religion, bid thy amaranths blow!
Connubial Love, thy thornless roses bring,
That shed o’er wintry life perpetual spring!
Friendship and filial duty, blend your tears,
Pour’d o’er the memory of departed years!
Here, O ye Virtues, spread your palms divine,
This once warm bosom was your chosen shrine.
But since no gem escapes the sullying vein,
No radiant sun the slightly-darkening stain,
Some spots of frailty in that soul might rise.
Whose altering form here cold and silent lies;
Now, from his earthly bound for ever freed,
Angel of mercy, for thy votary plead,
Till Love redeeming wash his stains away,
Ope the bright gate and give the nightless Day!