 | Original poems on several subjects |  |
276
The EPITAPH.
Here sleeps, in the still mansion of the grave,
What once was comeliness and virtue twain;
From death could innocence or beauty save,
On Earth's cold lap Monimia had not lain.
What once was comeliness and virtue twain;
From death could innocence or beauty save,
On Earth's cold lap Monimia had not lain.
All that beheld, for ever lov'd to gaze,
That heard her, could have listen'd without end;
Yet hence was but deriv'd her second praise,
Hence, with a form not Fancy's self could mend.
That heard her, could have listen'd without end;
Yet hence was but deriv'd her second praise,
Hence, with a form not Fancy's self could mend.
For friendship form'd, and all life's social joys,
A Friend she sought, but Fate ah disinclin'd!
To Heav'n she fled, where Man no more annoys,
To seek that treasure, here she ne'er could find.
A Friend she sought, but Fate ah disinclin'd!
To Heav'n she fled, where Man no more annoys,
To seek that treasure, here she ne'er could find.
| Original poems on several subjects | |