Dearest love! when thy God shall recall thee,
Be this record inscribed on thy tomb:
Truth, and gratitude, well may applaud thee,
And all thy past virtues relume.
It shall tell—to thy sex's proud honour,
Of sufferings and trials severe,
While still, through protracted affliction,
Not a murmur escaped; but the tear
Of resignment to Heaven's high dictates,
'Twas thine, like a martyr, to shed:
That heart—all affection for others—
For thyself, uncomplainingly, bled.
Midst the storms, which misfortune had gather'd,
What an angel thou wert unto me;
In that hour, when all friendship seem'd sever'd,
Thou didst bloom like the ever-green tree!
All was gloom; and in vain had I striven,
For hope ceased a ray to impart;
When thou cam'st, like a meteor from heaven,
And gave peace to my desolate heart!