Wordsworth's Epitaph on Southey
Ye vales and hills, whose beauty hither drew The poet's steps, and fixed him here, on you His eyes have closed; and ye, loved books, no more Shall Southey feed upon your precious lore, To works that ne'er shall forfeit their renown, Adding immortal labors of his own; Whether he traced historic truth with zeal For the state's guidance, or the church's weal; Or Fancy, disciplined by studious Art, Informed his pen, or Wisdom of the heart Or Judgments sanctioned in the patriot's mind By reverence for the rights of all mankind. Large were his aims, yet in no human breast Could private feelings find a holier nest. His joys, his griefs, have vanished like a cloud From Skiddaw's top, but he to heaven was vowed Through a life long and pure, and steadfast faith Calmed in his soul the fear of change and death.
English Poetry - http://eng-poetry.ru/english/index.php. E-mail email@example.com