Ye, who in sprightly health, and strength, and bloom,
By choice, or chance, view HENRIETTA’S tomb,
Of vanish’d virtues while you mourn the fate,
Ponder the warning of this early date!
Her mortal lot, in youth, in beauty’s prime,
What was,—what is,—think!—and redeem the time!
Gay converse!—facile smiles!—Hope’s rising light!—
Eternal silence!—and a mornless night!—
O! late the solace of thy parents’ eyes,
Balm of their rest, and day-star of their joys!
Sunk from this orb of error, loss, and woe,
Risen ’mid the spheres that change, nor sorrow know,
If grief, if faith, bend mutual o’er thy shrine,
The pang is human—but the trust divine.