KETURAH, Wife of the REV. MR. MITFORD,
Who died, February 26, 1814.
Mitford, when all who view'd thee, saw how gay;
How sweet, how peaceful was thy earthly way,
Mark'd thee tho' blest, to enjoy more bliss to give,
How pleasant said they like the good to live.
And when in calmest slumbers sunk thy breath,
When thy sad husband ask'd, can this be death?
Even friends and sisters 'midst their sorrows cry,-
How pleasant is it like thee, good to die.
ON MAJOR JOHN MISSING'S INFANT.
Happy the babe who, privileged by fate,
To shorter labour and a lighter weight,
Received but yesterday life's fleeting breath,
Ordered to-morrow to return to death.
Our time on earth was short, even as a span,
Our bodies are returned from whence they came;
But our immortal souls through Christ are blest,
And join in concert with the saints at rest.
Too pure, too Heav'nly, upon earth to stay,
An early message summon'd him away;
From mortal converse summon'd him lo rise,
To mix with kindred angels in the skies.
Resign'd and patient to the last she view'd, With calm submission her approaching fate, And now far happier is her life renew'd,
Free from the troubles of a mortal state.
All human things hang on a slender stay,
Those that are strongest soon are snatch'd away.
Beneath this stone, here lie two children dear,
The one at Stoney Middleton-the other here.
Tho' earth to earth is here consign'd,
We still are one in heart;
Those whom the Lord in love has join'd,
Not even death can part.
Consider, O! ye thoughtless sons of men,
You're born to die, and none of you knows when ;
You all must pay the debt to nature due,
O beg of God to make your hearts anew;
That when to earth and friends you bid farewell.
You
may with Christ in Heav'n for ever dwell.
In love he liv'd, in peace he died,
His life was ask'd, but God denied.)
If ever truth in epitaph was told,
Reader, for truth, this character behold;
To act uprightly was through life his plan,
Tho' poor he liv'd, he died an honest man.
ON CAPTAIN RICHARD PINDER,
Beneath wide ocean's distant wave he sleeps, While widow'd love, in silent anguish weeps; Till that dread day, when from their wat❜ry bed, The raging sea shall render up its dead.
All those we love decay, we die in part,
String after string is sever'd from the heart;
Till loossen'd life, at last but breathing clay,
Without one pang is glad to fall away.
Unhappy he who latest feels the blow,
Whose eyes have wept o'er every friend laid low;
Dragg'd lingering on from partial death to death,
Till dying, all he can, resigns his breath.
Should nature mourn the rigid doom that gave,
To youth and innocence an early grave;
Since freed from human ills a numerous train,
The child and husband's loss is her eternal gain.
Cross Eanonby_church-yard.
Here lies interr'd a chaste and virtuous wife,
Who smil'd at death, and calm resign'd her life ;
The soul dismantl'd of its cumbrous clay,
To bliss eternal now has wing'd its way;
Long live her offspring, grant thou power divine,
And all the mother in her children shine.
In her was all affection could require,
All duty ask'd, all friendship could require ;
Humanity was hers and strength of mind,
With every milder exercise combin'd,
While virtue eager to complete the whole,
Diffus'd her magic colouring o'er her soul.
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