With solemn sadness strikes the list’ning ear:
While sighs responsive to its gloomy knell,
Proclaim the loss of what was held most dear.
In prime of life, e’er manhood had begun,
A virtuous youth was number’d with the dead;
E’er nineteen years their wonted course had run,
Abeel’s chaste soul to other regions fled.
Untainted yet by pleasure’s ’witching smile,
Of manners easy, affable and free
A conscience pure, and void of specious guile,