She's gone! a foreign land contains
Her ever honour'd dear remains:
Pale are the cheeks where beauty glow'd;
And mute the tongue whence music flow'd;
Torn, in the height of all her charms,
From a fond husband's eager arms.
Could youth, or brightest beauty save,
She had not met an early grave;
Could worth reverse the gen'ral doom,
She'd boast exemption from the tomb.
But why for her should I complain,
Though mine the loss, yet her's the gain?
Too good for earth, heav'n bade her die,
And took her to her native sky.