Loddon
When on this spot, affection’s down-cast eye
The lucid tribute shall no more bestow;
When Friendship’s breast no more shall heave a sigh,
In kind remembrance of the dust below;
Should the rude Sexton, digging near this tomb,
A place of rest for others to prepare,
The vault beneath, to violate, presume,
May some opposing Christian cry, “Forbear—
“Forbear, rash mortal, as thou hop’st to rest,
When death shall lodge thee in thy destin’d bed,
With ruthless spade, unkindly to molest
The peaceful slumbers of the kindred dead!”