| William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Georgian Verse. 1909. | | | | Epitaph, Intended for Himself | | By James Beattie (1735–1803) |
| | | ESCAPED the gloom of mortal life, a soul | |
| Here leaves its moulding tenement of clay, | |
| Safe, where no cares their whelming billows roll, | |
| No doubts bewilder, and no hopes betray. | |
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| Like thee, I once have stemm’d the sea of life; | 5 |
| Like thee, have languish’d after empty joys; | |
| Like thee, have labour’d in the stormy strife; | |
| Been griev’d for trifles, and amus’d with toys. | |
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| Yet, for a while, ’gainst Passion’s threatful blast | |
| Let steady Reason urge the struggling oar; | 10 |
| Shot through the dreary gloom, the morn at last | |
| Gives to thy longing eye the blissful shore. | |
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| Forget my frailties; thou art also frail; | |
| Forgive my lapses, for thyself may’st fall; | |
| Nor read, unmov’d, my artless tender tale; | 15 |
| I was a friend, O man, to thee, to all. | | | | |
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