ABSTRACT
Bur chat once pal}, the Ornaments are gone, The Lights extinguilh’d, and the Curtains drawn: Yet all thefe Gifts were thy lefs noble part, Nor was thy Head lo worthy as thy Heart Where the Divine Impreffion fhin’d fo clear, As fnatch’d thee hence, and yet endear’d thee here .• For what in thee did moll; command our love Was both the caufe and fign o f thy remove. Such fools are we, fo fatally we choofe : That what we moft would keep we fooneft Ioofe. The humble greatnefs o f thy Pious thought, Sweetnefs unforc’d, and Bafhfulnefs untaught, The native Candour o f thine open breaft, And all the Beams wherein thy Worth was dreft, Thy W it fo bright, fo piercing and immenfe, Adorn’d with wife and lovely Innocence, Might have foretold thou'wert not fo compleat But that our joy might be as fhortas great. So the poor Swain beholds his ripened Corn By fome rough Wind without a Sickle torn: Never, ah ! never let fad Parents guefs A t one remove o f future happinefs: But reckon Children ’mong thofe pafsing joys Which one hour gives, and the next hour dcftroys. A las! we were fee ure o f our content» But find too late that it was onely lent, T o be a Mirrour wherein we may fee How frail wc are, how fpotlefs we fhould be. Buc if to thy bleft Soul my grief appears, Forgive and pity thefe injurious tears: Impute them to Aftefllons fad excefs, Which will not yield to Nature's tendernefs, Since ’twas through deareft: ties and highefttruft Continued from thy Cradle to thy Dull; And fo rewarded and confirm’d by thine, That (wo is me 1)1 thought thee too much mine. But Fie reftgn, and follow thee as faft As my unhappy Minutes will make feaft.
