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APOLOGY TO A FRIEND,
FOR ADDRESSING HIM SOME TIME AFTER A MELANCHOLY EVENT.
Amongst the first to share your sacred grief,
The first, alas! its cause severe to mourn,—
Ah, blame not, though the last to bring relief,
Or weave the cypress round the sainted urn!
The first, alas! its cause severe to mourn,—
Ah, blame not, though the last to bring relief,
Or weave the cypress round the sainted urn!
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For, O how feeble is Affection's lyre
To soothe the anguish of a woe profound!
How vain is all that Genius could inspire!
And Pity's tear but aggravates the wound.
To soothe the anguish of a woe profound!
How vain is all that Genius could inspire!
And Pity's tear but aggravates the wound.
In Nature's pangs 'tis Nature bids us feel,
Beyond or Friendship's or the Muse's power:
Th'Almighty hand that bruis'd, alone can heal,
And pour a balm upon that bitter hour.
Beyond or Friendship's or the Muse's power:
Th'Almighty hand that bruis'd, alone can heal,
And pour a balm upon that bitter hour.
He, only He, a solace can impart;
Teach us to think the blow was kindly giv'n;
Can waft a comfort to the Widower's heart,
Breath'd in soft whispers full of Hope and Heav'n.
Teach us to think the blow was kindly giv'n;
Can waft a comfort to the Widower's heart,
Breath'd in soft whispers full of Hope and Heav'n.
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