Swift after him thy social spirit flies,
And close to his, how soon! thy coffin lies. 110
Blest pair! whose union future bards shall tell
In future tongues: each other’s boast! farewell,
Farewell! whom joined in fame, in friendship tried,
No chance could sever, nor the grave divide.
Thomas Tickell.
CLXIII
ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY.
What beckoning ghost, along the moonlight shade,
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?