Epitaph on Sir William Williams

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Epitaph on Sir William Williams

Here, foremost in the dangerous paths of fame,

Young Williams fought for England’s fair renown;

His mind each Muse, each Grace adorned his frame,

Nor envy dared to view him with a frown.

At Aix, his voluntary sword he drew,

There first in blood his infant honour sealed;

From fortune, pleasure, science, love, he flew,

And scorned repose when Britain took the field.

With eyes of flame, and cool undaunted breast

Victor he stood on Belleisle’s rocky steeps⁠—

Ah, gallant youth; this marble tells the rest,

Where melancholy friendship bends, and weeps.