Here you will find thePoemEpitaph, Intended For Himselfof poet James Beattie
1 Escaped the gloom of mortal life, a soul Here leaves its mouldering tenement of clay, Safe where no cares their whelming billows roll, No doubts bewilder, and no hopes betray. 2 Like thee, I once have stemm'd the sea of life; Like thee, have languish'd after empty joys; Like thee, have labour'd in the stormy strife; Been grieved for trifles, and amused with toys. 3 Yet, for a while, 'gainst Passion's threatful blast Let steady Reason urge the struggling oar; Shot through the dreary gloom, the morn at last Gives to thy longing eye the blissful shore. 4 Forget my frailties, thou art also frail; Forgive my lapses, for thyself mayst fall; Nor read, unmoved, my artless tender tale, I was a friend, O man! to thee, to all.
