The following Verses were wrote by one of the Companions of AQUILA ROSE, who touching at Philadelphia, on his…

Stream on my Eyes, with generous Grief o'erflow, At this most solemn Spectacle of Woe! 'Tis Myris' Tomb: This little Spot contains Of that once active Youth, the Dead-Remains! His mould'ring Dust in silent Darkness lies, Dumb his sweet Tongue, and clos'd his chearful Eyes! Lamented Friend! thy Glass too swiftly run; Too swift the Life, thou hadst so well begun. Oh why wert thou so early snarch'd away; So quickly vanish'd from the Realms of Day, And e're we knew thy Merit, mix'd with common Clay? Great Sire of Verse, and Harmony divine! Why no Regard to thy own sacred Line? Else, why was wanting in that fatal Hour, Thy AEsculapius, and his healing Pow'r? That heav'nly Art, which could inspire new Breath, Break the strong Bands, and loose the Chains of Death, But Fate decreed, and Myris is no more; So soon we mourn what we admir'd before. What now avails it him, the Muse was kind, And once with lawrel Wreaths his Brows entwin'd: No longer now, her Inspiration warms; No more thro' him we view the Muses Charms! No more together they adorn the Plains, The Pride and Joy of the delighted Swains; In Britain's Isle, where Pleasure always springs, And Liberty spreads forth her golden Wings; Oh happy Land! the Muses lov'd Retreat; But we, unhappy! there no more shall meet: No more shall Myris view thy pleasant Shores, Unheard by him the circling Ocean roars: And thou no more shalt hear him touch the Lyre; Nor his lov'd Strains thy list'ning Youth inspire. The Bard no more on Beauty's Theme shall write, Nor fair Augusta's fairer Nymphs recite. Nor shall the Zephyrs gently touch the Sound, Nor Venus, and the Graces, dance around: Nor joyful Thames shall rear his lawrel'd Head, Nor Neptune, charm'd, repose on his rough Bed. No more we hear him with satyric Rage Scourging the Vices of an impious Age: Scandal forbear his Virtues to disguise, For he was Enemy to nought but Vice; His Soul disdain'd all mercenary Guile, Or with malicious Falshoods to revile. But while licentious Precepts are admir'd, And brainsick Whimsies pass for Thoughts inspir'd; Instead of Blame, he well deserves Applause Who vindicates Religion's sacred Cause: Such Myris was thy Care, such thy Regard; And Persecution thy unjust Reward. But if to sympathize with others Harms, Or if Humanity has any Charms, If holy Friendship Blessings does afford, If godlike Goodness ought to be ador'd; Then Myris none can injure thy fair Fame, Vertue secures thee an immortal Name.

With Pleasure we beheld, O Delaware! Thy woody Banks become the Muses Care; Thy docile Youth were with her Beauty fir'd, And Folly, Vice and Ignorance retir'd: And had but Myris liv'd, we hop'd to see A new Arcadia to arise on thee. Mourn all ye Streams; mourn all ye gentle Floods, And thou great Genius of these endless Woods; Ye Sylvan Pow'rs that danc'd the Groves along, And all who us'd to wonder at his Song; His Song no more sounds thro' the rural Glade, Nor Joy diffuses thro' the secret Shade. Mourn ye fair Nymphs; mourn all ye faithful Swains, His late belov'd Companions on the Plains; And while your willing Tears unbidden flow Let me be Sharer in the gen'rous Woe; Such Woe as his own Words could best impart, For Myris had a Key to every Heart. But Love, the sweetest Passion of the Mind, Delight of Heav'n, and Blessing to Mankind, His favourite Theme: Oh Myris, who like you, Could talk of Love could paint it half so true! With soft Address thou couldst persuade the Fair; With heav'nly Rhetorick thou couldst charm Despair.

Thou, once dear Partner of his Marriage Joys, This World no Blessings give, but Time destroys; Asswage thy Grief, compose thy troubled Mind, Two lovely Pledges he has left behind: May gracious Heav'n smile on their infant Years, And make amends for all the Mother's Tears.

Now, grateful Muse, thy mournful Labour cease, And let his honour'd Ashes rest in Peace: Endless his many Vertues to rehearse, A Task unequal to thy humble Verse.

Oh Philadelphia! now with conscious Shame, His Enemies submit to his just Fame: Their Envy is in Admiration lost, Taught by thy gen'rous Sons, his Worth they boast, And load, with Praise deserv'd, that hospitable Coast.