EPITAPH, On an amiable young Lady

This humble grave tho' no proud structure grace, Yet truth and goodness sanctify the place: Yet blameless virtue, which adorn'd thy bloom, Lamented maid! now weeps upon thy tomb: Escap'd from death, O safe on that calm shore, Where sin and pain, and passion are no more! What neither wealth could buy, nor power decree, Regard and pity wait sincere on thee! Lo! soft remembrance drops a pious tear, And holy friendship sits a mourner here.