EPITAPH ON MRS JANE CLARKE.

Lo! where this silent marble weeps,

A friend, a wife, a mother sleeps;

A heart, within whose sacred cell

The peaceful Virtues loved to dwell:

Affection warm, and faith sincere,

And soft humanity were there.

In agony, in death resign'd,

She felt the wound she left behind.

Her infant image here below

Sits smiling on a father's woe:

Whom what awaits while yet he strays

Along the lonely vale of days?

A pang, to secret sorrow dear,

A sigh, an unavailing tear,

Till time shall every grief remove

With life, with memory, and with love.