Epitaph on a Young Lady

ON A YOUNG LADY .

Clos'd are those eyes that beam'd seraphic fire;
Cold is that breast which gave the world desire;
Mute is the voice where winning softness warm'd,
Where music melted, and where wisdom charm'd,
And lively wit, which, decently confin'd,
No prude e'er thought impure, no friend unkind.
Could modest knowledge, fair untrifling youth,
Persuasive reason and endearing truth;
Could honour, shewn in friendships most refin'd,
And sense that shields th' attempted virtuous mind;
The social temper never known to strife,
The height'ning graces that embellish life;
Could these have e'er the darts of Death defy'd,
Never, ah! never had Melinda dy'd:
Nor can she die — ev'n now survives her name,
Immortaliz'd by friendship, love, and fame.
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