no sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay,
“no storied urn nor animated bust;”
this simple stone directs pale scotia's way,
to pour her sorrows o'er the poet's dust.
additional stanzas
she mourns, sweet tuneful youth, thy hapless fate;
tho' all the powers of song thy fancy fired,
yet luxury and wealth lay by in state,
and, thankless, starv'd what they so much admired.
this tribute, with a tear, now gives
a brother bard—he can no more bestow:
but dear to fame thy song immortal lives,
a nobler monument than art can shew.
inscribed under fergusson's portrait
curse on ungrateful man, that can be pleased,
and yet can starve the author of the pleasure.
o thou, my elder brother in misfortune,
by far my elder brother in the muses,
with tears i pity thy unhappy fate!
why is the bard unpitied by the world,
yet has so keen a relish of its pleasures?