From the faint brow to wipe the damps of death,
And watch, in dumb despair, the parting breath.
If chance directs him to this artless line,
Let the sad mourner know his pangs were mine:
Ordain’d to lose the partner of my breast,
Whose virtues charm’d me, and whose beauties blest;
Form’d every tie, which binds the soul to prove
Her only friendship, and her friendship love.
Yet still rememb’ring that the parting sigh,
Appoints the just to slumber, not to die!