The Works of the Late Aaron Hill ... In Four Volumes. Consisting of Letters on Various Subjects, And of Original Poems, Moral and Facetious. With An Essay on the Art of Acting |
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 | The Works of the Late Aaron Hill |  |
To the excellent Daughters of a deceas'd Lady.
Why should ye thus, to prove but vainly kind,
Add a weak body to a sickly mind?
Could but your pious grief recal her breath,
Or tears of duty win her back from death;
We would not blame the passion you express,
But share it with you, if'twould make it less!
Add a weak body to a sickly mind?
Could but your pious grief recal her breath,
Or tears of duty win her back from death;
We would not blame the passion you express,
But share it with you, if'twould make it less!
But oh! when certain death's uncertain hour
Exerts his known, his unresisted pow'r;
When we are summon'd from our cares, below,
To joys, which living merit must not know;
When souls, like your dear mother's, quit their clay,
And change earth's darkness for eternal day:
From their bliss-circled seats, perhaps, they view
These humbler regions, which themselves once knew.
And swell'd with thoughts, which make the angels kind,
Pity the pledges, they have left behind.
Exerts his known, his unresisted pow'r;
When we are summon'd from our cares, below,
To joys, which living merit must not know;
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And change earth's darkness for eternal day:
From their bliss-circled seats, perhaps, they view
These humbler regions, which themselves once knew.
And swell'd with thoughts, which make the angels kind,
Pity the pledges, they have left behind.
Tis true, the loss you mourn, is vastly great,
But in that loss, your country shares your fate;
The public good, her wishes would have done,
Made ev'ry man, in ev'ry land, her son:
Thence, lovely mourners! give us leave to prove,
We ought to share your grief, who shar'd your mother's love.
But in that loss, your country shares your fate;
The public good, her wishes would have done,
Made ev'ry man, in ev'ry land, her son:
Thence, lovely mourners! give us leave to prove,
We ought to share your grief, who shar'd your mother's love.
Yet, may all parties make their sorrow less,
And you, and we, concern enough express;
You may, with comfort, calm your ruffled mind,
To think, your mother left her cares behind;
And we, tho' losers, should be thankful too,
Since we are still left rich, possessing you.
And you, and we, concern enough express;
You may, with comfort, calm your ruffled mind,
To think, your mother left her cares behind;
And we, tho' losers, should be thankful too,
Since we are still left rich, possessing you.
| The Works of the Late Aaron Hill | |