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*Tis past! he cry'd-but if your souls

Sweet mercy yet can move,
Let these dim eyes once more behold,
What they must ever love!

She came; his cold hand softly touch'dy,

And bath'd with many a tear :
Fatt-falling o'er the primrose pale,
So morning dews appear.

But oh! his sister's jealous care,

A cruel filter Me!
Forbade what Emma came to say
• My Edwin, live for me!"

Now homeward as she hopeless wept.

The church-yard path along,
The blaft blew cold, the dark owl scream'd
Her lover's funeral song.

Amid the falling gloom of night,

Her startling fancy found
In every bush his hovering Made, .
His groan in every found.

Alone, appallid, thus liad the pass’d

The visionary vale-
When lo! the death-beil (mote her ear,
Sad founding in the gale!

XXII. Juft

Just then me reach'd, with trembling step,

Her aged mother's door
He's gone! The cry'd; and I shall see
That angel-face no more!

I feel, I feel this breaking heart:

Beat high ageinst my side
From her white arm down funk her head;

She shivering ligh’d, and died.

Extract of a Letter from the Curate of Bowes, in.

Yorkshire, on the Subject of the preceding



* As to the affair mentioned in yours, it happened long before my time. I have therefore been obliged to consult my clerk, and another person in the neighbourhood, for the truth of that melancholy event. The history of it is as follows:

THE family-name of the young man was Wrightson; of the young maiden Railton. They were both much of the same age; that is, growing up to twenty. In their birth was no disparity: but in fortune, alas! fhe was his inferior. His father, a hard old man, who had by his toil acquired a handsome competency, expected and required that his son should marry suitably.


Y 4

But as


vincit omnia,” his heart was unalterably fixed on the pretty young creature already named. Their courtship, which was all by stealth, unknown to the family, continued about a year. When it was found out, old Wrightson, his wife, and particularly their crooked daughter Hannah, flouted at the maiden, and treated her with notable contempt. For they held it as a maxim, and a rustic one it is, " that blood was " nothing without groats." The

young lover fickened, and took to his bed about Shrove-Tuesday, and died the Sunday sevennight after.

On the last day of his illness, he desired to see his mistress. She was civilly received by the mother, who bid her welcome--when it was too late. But her daughter Hannah lay at his back; to cut them off from all opportunity of exchanging their thoughts.

At her return home, on hearing the bell toll out for his departure, the screamed aloud that her heart was burst, and expired some moments after.

The then curat: of Bowes * inserted it in his regilter, that they both died of love, and were buried in the same grave, March 15, 1714. I am.,


Yours, &c.


* Bowes is a {mall village in York Mire, where in former times the Earls of Richmond had a castle. It Hands on the edge of that vast and mountainous tract, named by the neighbouring people, Stanemore ; which js always exposed to wind and weather, desolate and folitary throughout. CAMD, BRIT.

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O CROWN'D with honour, bleft with length of days,

Thou whom the wise revere, the worthy praise ;
Just guardian of those laws thy voice explain'd,
And meriting all titles thou hast gain'de
Though still the fairest from heaven's bounty flow;
For good and great no monarch can bestow :
Yet thus, of health, of fame, of friends poffeít,
No fortune, Hardwicke, is fincerely bleft.
All human-kind are fons of sorrow born :
The great must suffer, and the good must mourn.

For say, can Wisdom's felf, what late was thine,
Can fortitude, without a sigh, resign?
Ah, no! when Love, when Reason, hand in hand,
O’er the cold urn consenting Mourners stand,
The firmest heart dissolves to soften here :
And Piety applauds the falling tear.
Those sacred drops, by virtuous weakness shed,
Adorn the living, while they grace the dead :
From tender thought their source unblam’d they draw,
By Heaven approv'd, and true to Nature's law.


When his lov'd Child the Roman could not savegg
Immortal Tully, from an early grave *,
No common forms his home-felt passion kept :-
The fage, the patriot, in the parent, wept.
And O by grief ally'd, as join’d in fame,
The same thy loss, thy sorrows are the same.
She whom the Muses, whom the Loves deplore,
Ev’n she, thy pride and pleasure, is no more :
In bloom of years, in all her virtue’s bloom,
Loft to thy hopes, and filent in the tomb,

O seafon mark'd by mourning and despair!
Thy blasts, how fatal to the Young and Fair?
For vernal freshness, for the balmy breeze,
Thy tainted winds came pregnant with difease :.
Sick Nature funk before the mortal breath,
That scatter'd fever, agony, and death!
What funerals has thy cruel ravage spread!


have flow'd! what noble bofoms bled! Here let Reflection fix her fober view :

think, who suffer, and who figh with you.
See, rudely snatch'd, in all her pride of.charms,
Bright Granby from a youthful husband's arms !
In climes far distant, see that husband mourn;
His arms revers 'd, his recent laurel torn!
Behold again, at Fate's imperious call,
In one dread instant blooming Lincoln fall!


* Tullia died about the age of two and thirty. She is celebrated for her filial piety; and for having added, to the usual graces of her fex, the more solid accomplishments of knowledge and polite letters. MALLET.

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