57
SONNET,ON THE DEATH OF A. C———, ESQ.
In private shades there dwelt a patriot heart,
Most nobly generous, guileless, and sincere;
Well does his early grave demand our tear,
How few so friendly,so devoid of art!
With cordial warmth, on all he would bestow
His own o'erflowing kindness, unconfined,
Though the rich stores of his high-cultured mind
Humble he hid, and only few might know.
Much shall we miss thee on our onward way,
Thy ready smile, thy friendly clasp of hand:
But those affections now in heaven's own land
Are blest, with those thou lovedst in earlier day;
And they thou leavest behind will trustful wait,
Till for them too shall ope the golden gate!
Most nobly generous, guileless, and sincere;
Well does his early grave demand our tear,
How few so friendly,so devoid of art!
With cordial warmth, on all he would bestow
His own o'erflowing kindness, unconfined,
Though the rich stores of his high-cultured mind
Humble he hid, and only few might know.
Much shall we miss thee on our onward way,
Thy ready smile, thy friendly clasp of hand:
But those affections now in heaven's own land
Are blest, with those thou lovedst in earlier day;
And they thou leavest behind will trustful wait,
Till for them too shall ope the golden gate!
