Epitaph on Eliza

While o'er this turf in mingled sadness bend,
The honoured parent, and the early friend,
E LIZA , see! upon thy vernal tomb,
One wreath, in which thy memory yet shall bloom
Dear, sainted shade! — calm be this hallowed rest,
Calm as the virtues of thy spotless breast;
Till, through the dreary regions of the dust,
Benignly break the Morning of the Just!
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