Grief flies, for comfort, to the tender fair.
The good and great, we fondly think have pow’rs,
Can charm to ease our sad and anxious hours:
Else why to you should I at Fate repine?
The friends I mourn, alas! were doubly thine!
For their dear sakes, bid lines they priz’d still live,
And grant that shelter they no more can give.
Yet, the sad verse how should you patronize
That wakes up anguish in a heart at ease!
For their dear sakes my pray’rs are ever thine,