In the same hour two lovely youths were born,
Nature, with care, had moulded either clay:
In the same hour, from this world's limits torn,
The murderous Indian seiz'd their lives away.
Distress to aid, impell'd each generous breast;
With nervous arm they brav'd the adverse tide,
In friendship's cause encounter'd death's embrace,
Blameless they liv'd, in honour's path they died.
But ah! what art shall dry a father's tears!
Who shall relieve, or what beguile his pain!
Clouds shade his sun, and griefs advance with years—
Nature gave joys, to take those joys again.
Thou, that shall come to these sequester'd streams,
When times to come their story shall relate;
Let the fond heart, that native worth esteems,
Revere their virtues, and bemoan their fate.