TO A LADY AND HER CHILDREN,
On the Death of her Son and their Brother.
O'erwhelming sorrow now demands my song:
From death the overwhelming sorrow sprung.
What flowing tears! what hearts with grief opprest!
What sighs on sighs heave the fond parent's breast!
The brother weeps, the hapless sisters join
The increasing woe, and swell the crystal brine;
The poor, who once his generous bounty fed,
Droop and bewail their benefactor dead.
In death the friend, the kind companion lies,
And in one'death what various comfort dies!
The unhappy mother sees the sanguine rill
Forget to flow, and nature's wheels stand still:
But see, from earth his spirit far removed,
And know no grief recals your best beloved:
He, upon pinions swifter than the wind,
Has left mortality's sad scenes behind
For joys to this terrestrial state unknown,
And glories richer than the monarch's crown.
Of virtue's steady coarse the prize behold!
What blissful wonders to his mind unfold!
But of celestial joys I sing in vain:
Attempt not, Muse, the too adventurous strain.
No more in briny showers ye friends around.
Or bathe his clay, or waste them on the ground.
