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171
To the Memory of MARY ANNE MONCRIEFF,
Who died May 24, 1828, in her 22nd Year.
Sweet token! Heaven design'd her not for earth!She bore an angel's semblance from her birth;
A more than mortal grace, that charm'd all eyes;
A sweetness, that belong'd but to the skies;
Genius, that all perfection's pathways trod;
And virtue, emanation of her God!
Thus gifted, was no other blessing hers?
Yes, one Heaven on its chosen but confers:—
That early suffering, which all sin denies,
Which timely weans us from all worldly ties,
Which in the gently fading look we trace,
Yet which but yields its victim milder grace;
Sustain'd for lingering years, without complaint,
Till the meek martyr soar'd into the saint!
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Some fleeting being of another clime,
Some fair star waning in the morning's beam,
Or faint remembrance of a witching dream,
Was she!—So lovely, e'en disease she charm'd,—
The beauty it destroy'd it ne'er deform'd!
Death fear'd to strike, although he could not spare,
A being both so fragile and so fair:
He paus'd, till weariness had hush'd her sighs,
Then, imperceptibly, secur'd his prize.
Ah! Mary Anne! thou spring-day of delight!
Lamp of my life! now quench'd in death's dark night!
Could excellence but lend its own bright rays
To light the lines, that fain would hymn its praise,
Then would this humble scroll immortal prove
As is thy worth—and as will be my love!
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