By a LADY, on the Death of her N what foft Language fhall my Thoughts get I [free, My dear ALEXIS, whilft I talk of Thee? Ye Mufes, Graces, all ye gentle Train Of weeping Loves, affift the penfive Strain. For all who knew His Merit must confefs, M In Grief for HIM there can be no Excess. His Soul was form'd to act each glorious Part No Thought within His gen'rous Mind had Birth, Whatever noble Warmth cou'd recommend The juft, the active, and the conftant Friend, And fofter Ties my endless Sorrows claim. Whate'er to fuch fuperior Worth was due, t Whate'er Excess the fondet. Paffion knew, My warmeft Vows to Heav'n were made for Thee, Oh! Thou waft all my Glory, all my Pride, Regardless of the World's, to gain Thy Praife, Why Why has my Heart this fond Engagement known, Or why has Heav'n diffolv'd the Tye fo foon? Why was the charming Youth fo form'd to move, Or why was all my Heart fo turn'd for Love? But here Refolves a vain Defence had made, Where fo much Worth and Eloquence cou'd plead. For HE cou'd talk! 'twas Extasy to hear! 'Twas Joy, 'twas Harmony to ev'ry Ear! Eternal Mufick dwelt upon his Tongue, Sweet and transporting as the Mufes' Song. Lift'ning to HIм my Cares were charm'd to Reft, I hear the lov'd, the melting Accents ftill; And Life and Pleasure kindle in His Eyes. My Fancy paints HIM ftill with ev'ry Grace. But ah! the dear Resemblance mocks my fond Em brace; K The The flatt'ring Vision takes its hafty Flight, His Anguish with the quickest Sence I feel, My dearest Wife, my laft, my fondest Care, "Sure Heav'n for Thee will hear a dying Pray'r. Be Thou the Care of facred Providence, "When I am gone be That thy kind Defence. "Ten thousand fmiling Bleffings crown thy Head, "When I am gone, and number'd with the Dead. "Think on thy Vows, be to My Memory juft, "My future Fame and Honour are thy Truft. "From all Engagements here I now am free, But that which keeps my ling'ring Soul with Thee. " How "How much I love, thy bleeding Heart can tell, "Which must like mine the Pangs of parting feel. But hafte to meet me on the happy Plains, "Where mighty Love in endlefs Triumph reigns. He said then gently yielded up his Breath, And fell a blooming Sacrifice to Death. But oh! what Words, what Numbers can exprefs, What Thought conceive the Height of my Distress ? Why did they tear me from thy breathlefs Clay? I fhou'd have ftay'd, and wept my Life away. Yet, gentle Shade, where'er thou now dost rove, Thro' fome bleft Vale, or ever verdent Grove, One Moment liften to my Grief, and take The fofteft Vows that conftant Love can make. "For THEE all Thoughts of Pleasure I forego, "For THEE my Tears fhail never cease to flow, "For THEE at once I from the World retire, "To feed in filent Shades an hopelefs Fire. K ? « My |