ON A LADY WHO DIED AT BRISTOL WELLS:
BY HER HUSBAND.
Who e’er like me, with trembling anguish brings,
His hearts whole treasure to fair Bristol’s springs;
Whoe’er like me, to soothe disease and pain,
Shall prove those salutary springs in vain:
Condemn’d like me, to hear the faint reply,
To view the trembling look, the aching eye;
From the faint brow to wipe the damps of death,
And watch, in dumb despair, the parting breath.
If chance directs him to this artless line,
Let the sad mourner know his pangs were mine:
Ordain’d to lose the partner of my breast,
Whose virtues charm’d me, and whose beauties blest;
Form’d every tie, which binds the soul to prove
Her only friendship, and her friendship love.
Yet still rememb’ring that the parting sigh,
Appoints the just to slumber, not to die!
The starting tear I check’d, I kiss’d the rod,
And not to earth consign’d her—but to God.