How mourns the heart, when early fades away
The opening promise of a riper bloom;
When youth and beauty, innocently gay,
Sink in the silent ruin of the tomb!
Oh, thou pure spirit! which in life's fair dawn,
Arose superior to that childish frame,
(Fair tho' it was) from which thou art withdrawn,
To that bright Heaven from whence thy beauty came.
Sweet Juliet! happily releas'd from care,
Which future years perhaps had bade the prove;
A heart so tender, and a form so fair,
Ill with the perils of the world had strove!
Thy heart expanding at affection's voice,
How had it borne in native kindness warm,
To check the rapid fire of youthful choice,
And dread deceit beneath the loveliest form!
To thee were graces so benignly given,
A soul so tender, and a wit so rare;
A love of harmony, as if kind Heaven
Had bade thee for an early bliss prepare.
Long shall the heart which lov'd thy dawning grace,
The pensive mem'ry of each charm retain;
Thy winning manners studiously retrace,
And dwell anew on each harmonious strain.
Nor shall that heart to present scenes confine
Its views and wishes; but with worthier care,
Seek to preserve an innocence like thine,
And humbly hope thy happiness to share.