For, O alas! unpitying Heav’n
Has clos’d in everlasting sleep,
The gentlest soul that e’er was giv’n
O’er misery’s sad form to weep:
Though kind, though chaste, to virtue strict allied,
To Death’s unerring shafts—she bow’d—and died!
Yes, dear Maria, though thou art no more,
Reflection e’er will prey upon my heart;
Until we meet upon that blissful shore,
In joys uninterrupted, ne’er to part.