EPITAPH

O thou! whose steps in sacred reverence tread

These lone dominions of the silent dead;

On this sad stone a pious look bestow,

Nor uninstructed read this tale of woe;

And while the sigh of sorrow heaves thy breast,

Let each rebellious murmur be supprest;

Heaven's hidden ways to trace, for us, how vain!

Heaven's wise decrees, how impious, to arraign!

Pure from the stains of a polluted age,

In early bloom of life, they left the stage:

Not doom'd in lingering woe to waste their breath,

One moment snatch'd them from the power of Death:

They liv'd united, and united died;

Happy the friends whom Death cannot divide!