But more than all the world could else bestow,
All pleasures that from fame or fortune flow,
To fix secure in bliss thy future life,
Heaven crowned thy blessings with a lovely wife--
Wise, gentle, good, with every grace combined
That charms the sense or captivates the mind;
Skilled every soft emotion to improve,
The joy of friendship, and the wish of love;
To soothe the heart which pale Misfortune's train
Invades with grief or agonizing pain;
To point through devious paths the narrow road
That leads the soul to virtue or to God.
O friend! O sister! to my bosom dear
By every tie that binds the soul sincere;
O, while I fondly dwell upon thy name,
Why sinks my soul, unequal to the theme?
But though unskilled thy various worth to praise,
Accept my wishes, and excuse my lays.
May all thy future days, like this, be gay,
And love and fortune blend their kindest ray;
Long in their various gifts mayst thou be blessed,
And late ascend the realms of endless rest.
Among her papers, also, after her decease, was found a pastoral on
"Disappointment," which here follows, evidently written during her
seclusion in Danvers, with this brief and pathetic letter in
stenographic characters:--
"Must I die alone? Shall I never see you more? I know that you will
come; but you will come too late. This is, I fear, my last ability.
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