Let Me, as hitherto, still draw my breath,
In love with life, but not in fear of death,
And, if Oppression brings me to the grave,
And marks him dead, She ne'er shall mark a slave,
Let no unworthy marks of grief be heard,
No wild laments, not one unseemly word;
Let sober triumphs wait upon my bier,
I won't forgive that Friend who drops one tear.
Whether He's ravish'd in life's early morn,
Or, in old age, drops like an ear of corn,
Full ripe He falls, on Nature's noblest plan,
Who lives to Reason, and who dies a Man.