A Monody on the Death of a Friend. O grant, ye powers that rule the lives of all, Where fate may call, and I may roam- Such be the sacred care my ashes find When death has clos'd the scene: Such be the impression on the youthful mind, When followers round my grave convene : But more than all-like his, my spirit rise, And with him reign in worlds beyond the skies. On the Death of a beloved Infant. ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT. Almighty God! 'tis right, 'tis just, Go, gentle babe, to realms of bliss, The chast'ning rod we humbly kiss; Thy Saviour calls thee home, my son, And let his holy will be done. Thy earthly form, now icy cold, Thy earthly parents loved thee wellSo much, that language fails to tell; But, ah! our love was weak and poor, Thy heavenly Parent loves thee more. Here, thou wert tenderly caress'd, On the Death of a beloved Infant. Fain would paternal love have taught 'Twas all our thoughts and wishes still Then let us hush the rising sigh, Our child still lives! his sorrows o'er, There, shall the sweet maternal kiss, Almighty God! 'tis right, 'tis just, 128 On the Death of a Child. ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. In life's parterre, what numerous germs disclose, The loveliest tints, the sweetest blushing dies! The enraptured florist views the opening rose, Screens it from every ruder wind that blows, And richer, future charms, in embryo espies. But, ah! the spoiler stalks abroad, whose breath Is pestilence, whose chilling touch is death! With merciless hand he crops the flower, And all its promis'd beauty flies, It falls beneath his baneful power, It shrinks, it withers, droops, and dies. Lines on the Death of a favourite Kitten. LINES, Written at the request of a young lady, on the Death of her favourite Kitten. [A JUVENILE PRODUCTION.] Shall sculptur'd blocks and columns rise Forbid it, Justice! while my muse How pure her life! without a blot To stain her bright untarnish'd fame! Though low, obscure, and mean, her lot, Yet long shall live her humble name. How oft her sportive tricks and plays Have pleased, amused, and banish'd care! How oft her little winning ways Have gain'd caresses from the fair! |