October 1794

Since each soft virtue of domestic life, Of tender parent, and of faithful wife, Kind sister, duteous daughter, friend sincere, Found in thy bosom a congenial sphere, Whence all their purest emanations flow’d, With pity melted, with affection glow’d, So may each paper, which shall slumber here, Thro’ many a vexing, many a waning year, Speak of thy weal, and speak of their’s whose doom Thy future days must darken, or illume.