To pay my memory, if ’tis worth the debt,
Love’s glorying tribute—not forlorn regret:
I charge my name with power to conjure up
Reflection’s balmy, not its bitter cup.
My pardoning angel, at the gates of Heaven,
Shall look not more regard than you have given
To me; and our life’s union has been clad
In smiles of bliss as sweet as life e’er had.
Shall gloom be from such bright remembrance cast?
Shall bitterness outflow from sweetness past?