The tear which mourn'd a brother's fate scarce dry--

Pain after pain, and woe succeeding woe-- Is my heart destin'd for another blow? O my sweet sister! and must thou too die? Ah! how has Disappointment pour'd the tear O'er infant Hope destroy'd by early frost! How are ye gone, whom most my soul held dear! Scarce had I lov'd you ere I mourn'd you lost; Say, is this hollow eye, this heartless pain, Fated to rove thro' Life's wide cheerless plain-- Nor father, brother, sister meet its ken-- My woes, my joys unshared! Ah! long ere then On me thy icy dart, stern Death, be prov'd;-- Better to die, than live and not be lov'd!

1791.