By Painful Sickness Long Severely Prest, Here Sinks, On Nature'S Sacred Lap Of Rest, A Friend, Who, In A Life Too Short, Display'D A Mind In Virtue Bright, Without One Shade. Hence With Unusual Grief Is Fondness Mov'D, Hence More Than Pity'S Sighs For One Belov'D; Unshaken Honour Sheds A Manly Tear, And Weeping Virtue Stops, A Mourner Here.