Here sleeps, inurn'd, the minister to woe, That taught the heart to feel — the eye to flow; From whom distress ne'er came with bosom griev'd, Whose tongue persuaded, and whose hand reliev'd; What eye, unbloated, could observe his fall— Just — where he could — benevolent to all. Here cease enquiry — blessing made him blest; Let pity veil the page that speaks the rest.
