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To that lone grave, where all my hopes are laid, Where mingling sleeps the dust of sire and son;Say, wilt thou see Louisa's form convey'd, And life's last honours to her ashes done?
For there at last shall blessed peace be giv'n, Stretch'd by my Arnold and each clay-cold boy;And when thou diest, we will stoop from heav'n, And greet thy spirit to the realms of joy.
ON THE DEATH OF THE AMIABLE AND LOVELYMISS GEORGINA N. A. T. GRANT.1810.
At thy lone tomb, Georgina dear! The pious knee shall lowly bend,And there affection's warmest tear In dewy showers shall oft descend.
Oh! what avails it that thy form In beauty's perfect mould was cast?The fairest flow'r must meet the storm, And wither in the angry blast.
