And shed the soften’d tear of sympathy.
Like the bright Ledean stars together roam,
And Clara and her Emma be but one;
And when bright Cynthia’s lucid light
Breaks through the opaque clouds of night,
And throws a fulgent radiance round,
At death’s cold tomb will we be found:
And o’er our relative’s sad bier,
Together shed the sacred tear:
Through night’s dark vista thus pour out our soul,