Far more than the perishing gildings of pride!
Then, away with your grandeur and arts that impose,
I'll praise the old relic with life's wasting sand;
I'll guard the dear treasure till life's latest close,
And bless when I'm dying my Grandmother's stand.
TO LAURA.—THE FRIEND.
BY BEATA.
Your letter, dearest Laura, a welcome found indeed;
Never fear to write whate'er you think, 'tis that I wish to read;