Epitaph on a Living Character (II)

Whose headstone is this, that's so fretted and airy
In workmanship, planned by the wildest vagary ?
There's the bolus, the pen, and the emblem of happiness,
With Venus and Mars and the sage Esculapius ;
Fine gardens on arches ! whose shades I remember
The picture of May, and the bust of November.
And yonder 's an OK ; faith I almost could wager
'Tis the great king of Babylon, Nebuchadnezzar.
If you'll lend me a prop with your hand or your head,
I shall
Read you the epitaph up from the pedestal.

" O passenger, pause o'er these sacred receptacles !
And read whom they hold, though you put on your spectacles :
Remember in season your God and your duty, .
Else vain is your knowledge, your riches or beauty;
If these had as guards stood this chilly abode upon,
Never had these two lain here to be trod upon.

" Here, next to the sun, lies as bold and as rich a man,
Ah, no, but the ashes of one that was such a man !
Of spirit decisive, of genius undoubted ;
And as for his learning it ne'er was disputed.
The fire of the sky and the ray of simplicity
Were both led in train by a proud eccentricity :
Yet now when he's gone you may safely aver it,
His countrymen knew not one half of his merit.

" And here by his side lies a sweet lovely creature,
A dew-sprinkled rose in the garden of nature !
Who blossomed and smiled in the richest maturity,
Then died as she lived, in submission and purity !
Yes, both are laid low here, as sure as you'd seen it,
And no man is sure of his life for a minute.

" Go home to your book or your business, and when ye go,
Turn not aside to the tavern or bagnio ;
But hold on your way with a firm resolution,
A day is approaching of fair retribution ;
And when to the tomb they your carcass deliver,
For good or for evil, ye're settled for ever !"