Classic Poem

ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY .

Could brightest beauty, gentlest manners, save
One precious victim from th' insatiate grave,
The tear that Virtue and the Graces pay,
Now should not stream o'er my E LIZA 's clay.
Oh! lov'd, oh! lost! within whose tender breast,
Meek Sympathy was still a welcome guest;
In whose soft cheek's eternal dimple smil'd
The cherub, Pardon, Pity's charming child;
May'st thou enjoy, in a sublimer sphere,
That rapture only thou could'st yield me here;
Associate with thy sister-angels shine,
And Saints caress thee with a love like mine;
No lesser Pow'r in thee shall claim a part,
But to my G OD alone, I give thy heart!