Let a white stone of pure unsullied ray
Record, Macrinus, this thy natal day,
Which not for thee the less auspicious shines,
That years revolve, and closing life declines.
Haste then to celebrate this happy hour,
And large libations to thy Genius pour.
With splendid gifts you ne'er will seek the shrine,
To tempt the power you worship as divine.
To venal nobles you consign the task,
To wish in secret, and in secret ask ;
Let them for this before the altar bow,
And breathe unheard the mercenary vow:
Let them for this upon the votive urn
Mute offerings make, and midnight incense burn.
It ill might suit the selfish and the proud,
Were the grand objects of their lives avow'd;
Were all the longings of their souls express'd,
No latent wish left lurking in the breast.
When truth or virtue is the boon we seek,
We can distinctly ask, and clearly speak;
But when the guilty soul throws off disguise,
Then whisper'd prayers, and mutter'd vows arise.
“O in his grave were my old uncle laid,
“ And at his tomb funereal honours paid !