Classic Poem

Upon the Death of Mr . W ILLIAM W EBB , ( a very ingenious young Gentleman) at the Hot-Well, Bristol .

I.

Death! is the common Lot of all,
The Prince and Peasant both must fall;
Not all the Splendor of the Great,
Can shield 'em from this gen'ral Fate.

II.

But when such op'ning Virtues fly,
Too early seek their Kindred Sky,
Who but laments? deplores the Time?
As I, in sympathetic Rhime;

III.

When such a Youth, esteem'd, belov'd,
To Friends most dear, by all approv'd,
Was, in the Prime of Life's sweet Flow'r,
Giv'n up to Death's all-grasping Pow'r.

IV.

Well may the Sister Arts deplore
Their Loss of such a precious Store;
In plaintive Moan, with drooping Head,
He's gone! they cry, alas! our W EBB !

V.

But what avail those streaming Eyes?
Or all their Sorrow-loaded Sighs?
'Tis past! inexorable Doom,
Has sent him to an early Tomb!

VI.

Submit we then to Heav'n's Decree;
And grant, whene'er that Time shall be,
That we may leave as white a Name,
And reap with him immortal Gain .