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VERSES ON MRS. ROWE.
Blest in thy friendships! in thy death, too, blest!Received without a pang to endless rest.Heaven called the saint matured by length of days,And her pure spirit was exhaled in praise.Bright pattern of thy sex, be thou my Muse;Thy gentle sweetness through my soul diffuse:Let me thy palm, though not thy laurel share,And copy thee in charity and prayer:—Though for the bard my lines are far too faint,Yet in my life let me transcribe the saint.
