Here shed a tear, and heave the pensive sigh
Where BEAUTY, YOUTH, and INNOCENCE repose.
Doth wit adorn thy mind?—doth science pour
It's ripen'd bounties on thy vernal year?
Behold! where Death has cropp'd the plenteous store—
And heave the sigh, and shed the pensive tear.
Does Music's dulcet notes dwell on thy tongue?
And do thy fingers sweep the sounding lyre?
Behold! where low she lies, who sweetly sung
The melting strains a cherub might inspire.