صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني
[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

A

A particular FRIEND of the AUTHOR.

S those we love decay, we die in part,
String after string is sever'd from the heart;;

Till loosen'd life, at last, but breathing clay,
Without one pang is glad to fall away.
Unhappy he, who latest feels the blow,

Whose eyes have wept o'er ev'ry friend laid low,

Dragg'd ling'ring on from partial death to death,,
Till, dying, all he can resign is breath.

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]

T

4

FLL me, thou foul of her

I love,.

Ah! tell me, whither art thou fled;.

To what delightful world above,

Appointed for the happy dead?

II.

Or dost thou, free, at pleasure, roam,
And fometimes share thy lover's wo
Where, void of thee, his cheerless home
Can now, alas! no comfort know?

III.

Oh! if thou hover'st round my walk,
While, under ev'ry well-known tree,.
I to thy fancy'd fhadow talk,
And ev'ry tear is full of thee;

IV.

Should then the weary eye of grief,
Beside some sympathetic stream,
In flumber find a short relief,
Oh visit thou my focthing dream!

1

EP

I

TAPH

ƠN

H

MISS STANLEY.

ERE, STANLEY, rest, escap'd this mortal strife,, Above the joys, beyond the woes of life. Fierce pangs no more thy lively beauties stain, And sternly try thee with a year of pain: No more fweet patience, feigning oft relief, Lights thy fick eye, to cheat a parent's grief:: With tender art, to fave her anxious groan, No more thy bosoin presses down its own: Now well-earn'd peace is thine, and bliss fincere :: Ours be the lenient, not unpleasing tear!

O born to bloom, then sink beneath the storm;; To show us Virtue in her fairest form; To show us artless Reason's moral reign, What boastful science arrogates in vain; Th' obedient paffions knowing each their part; Calm light the head, and harmony the heart! Yes, we must follow foon, will glad obey, When a few funs have roll'd their cares away, Tir'd with vain life, will close the willing eye: 'Tis the great birth-right of mankind to die. Bleft be the bark! that wafts us to the shore, Where death-divided friends shall part no more : To join thee there, here with thy duft repose, Is all the hope thy hapless mother knows.

« السابقةمتابعة »