Of the Late Ædanus Burke, Esq., of South-Carolina
Quiesco—ubi saeva indignatio,
Ulterius cor lacerare nequit!
A land enslaved, his generous heart disdain'd
Which tyrants fetter'd, and where tyrants reign'd:
Disgusted there, he left the hibernian shore
The laws that bound him, and the isle that bore.
Bold, open, free, he call'd the world his own,
Preferr'd our new republics to a throne;
And lent his aid their insults to repay,
Repel the britons and to win the day.
In every art of subtlety untaught,
He spoke no more, than "just the thing he ought;"
For justice warm, he spurn'd, with just disdain,
The mean evasion, and the law's chicane.
Burke! to thy shade we pay this last address,
And only say what all, who knew, confess:
Your virtues were not of the milder kind,
But rugged independence ruled your mind,
And, stern, in all that binds to honor's cause,
No interest sway'd you to desert her laws.
Then rest in peace, the portion of the just,
Where Carolina guards your honor'd dust:
Beneath a tree, remote, obscure, you sleep,
But all the sister virtues, round you, weep;
Your native worth, no tongue, no time arraigns,
That last memorial, and the best remains!