His Epitaph

Tread softly, ye that pass, for here
The old man rests his head,
And sleeps the sleep that all men must
Among the honoured dead.
Meleager, son of Eucrates,
Who linked the joyous train
Of Graces and of Muses
With love's delicious pain.
From Gadara, the sacred land,
I came and god-built Tyre,
But Meropis and pleasant Cos
Consoled life's waning fire.
If thou be Syrian, say Salaam,
Or Hail, if Greek thou be,
Say Naidios, if Phœnician born,
For all are one to me.