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How fond and vain th' anticipation sweet,
Beneath thy friendly shades once more to meet!
Oh, best of friends! still had I hop'd to view
Thy face once more, and all my joys renew.
But heav'n those joys, too perfect, turn'd to pains,
And one sad duty only now remains,
That I, while yet thy widow'd mate survive,
That comfort which I want, should strive to give.
 

See Letters IV. and V. in the Appendix.