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266
TO A YOUNG LADY.
When Death, with cruel stroke, dissolves the tyeWhich holds in friendship a congenial heart;
We bid the long adieu with streaming eye,
And pour the impassion'd sorrows ere we part.
Yet, tho' we grieve, the inevitable ill,
Ere long, with soften'd anguish we endure:
For time the throbbing pulse hath power to still,
And close the wound which reason could not cure.
But if the averted look too plainly tell
Constrain'd civilities from those we love;
If all our warmth the frigid air repel,
'Tis ours (the wish sincere tho' heaven approve)
A slow-consuming heart-ake to sustain,
Whilst each cold look renews the sense of pain!
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