That clay where once such animation beam'd;
The king of terrors seiz'd her as his prey,
Not worth, nor beauty, have her life redeem'd.
3.
Oh! could that king of terrors pity feel,
Or Heaven reverse the dread decree of fate,
Not here the mourner would his grief reveal,
Not here the muse her virtues would relate.
4.
But wherefore weep! her matchless spirit soars,