Here rest her ashes with her kindred dust—
Death's only conquest o'er the favoured just:
Her soul in Christ the tyrant's power defied,
And the Saint triumphed when the woman died.
In Amesbury Churchyard, Witts.
When sorrow weeps o'er virtue's sacred dust,
Then tears become us, and our grief is just;
Such cause had she to weep who gratefully pays
This last sad tribute of her love and praise,
Who mourns a sister and a friend combined,