IN HOLY-ROOD CHURCH, SOUTHAMPTON. <br /> <br /> <br />When Pomp, when Wealth, when Greatness sink to dust, <br />Though Vanity adorn the splendid bust, <br />Sincerer drops of tributary woe <br />O'er the lone urn of modest Merit flow. <br />And tears as true as e'er embalm'd the dead <br />Shall D'Aussey! o'er thy humble tomb be shed, <br />For though thy frugal temper ne'er supplied <br />The selfish calls of Luxury and Pride, <br />Yet Pity's gentle voice thy heart pursu'd, <br />And felt the Luxury of doing good, <br />While Want reliev'd by silent bounties given, <br />Wafts with her grateful prayers thy soul to heaven.<br /><br />Henry James Pye<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/epitaph-on-charles-d-aussey-esquire/
