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EPITAPH OF AN INJURED LOVER.

[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

The Soul is supposed to address the dead Corpse.
Envied and happy is your peaceful state,
Ye ashes of my once tumultuous flame!
Here reach no injuries that end in hate;
No pangs of slighted love, nor conscious shame.
Rage is not to conviction here oppos'd,
(Ill bear we proofs of guiltiness of mind!)
Here Jealousy's wild, jaundic'd eye is clos'd:
The Cave of Death is silent, cold and blind.