EPITAPH ON MRS JANE CLARKE.

Lo! where this silent marble weeps, A friend, a wife, a mother sleeps; A heart, within whose sacred cell The peaceful Virtues loved to dwell: Affection warm, and faith sincere, And soft humanity were there. In agony, in death resign'd, She felt the wound she left behind. Her infant image here below Sits smiling on a father's woe: Whom what awaits while yet he strays Along the lonely vale of days? A pang, to secret sorrow dear, A sigh, an unavailing tear, Till time shall every grief remove With life, with memory, and with love.