Feels then the hope that mounts all care above,
And the pure joy that flows from pardoning love?
Such have I seen in Death, and much deplore,
So many dying - that I see no more:
Lo! now my Records, where I grieve to trace
How Death has triumph’d in so short a space;
Who are the dead, how died they, I relate,
And snatch some portion of their acts from fate.
With
Andrew Collett