University of Virginia Library

Then view the scene of death, where keener pain
Palsies each nerve, and thrills through every vein.
Ye sorrowing inmates of his mournful dome,
Ye sad domestics, kindred, neighbours, come!
Take a last gaze—in ruins where he lies!—
Pale your mute lips—and red your failing eyes—
But, dumbly eloquent, despair shall tell,
How long ye lov'd him, and, ev'n more, how well!