Page:Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral.djvu/100

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O more the flow'ry scenes of pleasure rise, Nor charming prospects greet the mental eyes, No more with joy we view that lovely face Smiling, disportive, flush'd with ev'ry grace.


 * The tear of sorrow flows from ev'ry eye,

Groans answer groans, and sighs to sighs reply; What sudden pangs shot thro' each aching heart, When, Death, thy messenger dispatch'd his dart? Thy dread attendants, all-destroying Pow'r, Hurried the infant to his mortal hour. Could'st thou unpitying close those radiant eyes? Or fail'd his artless beauties to surprize? Could not his innocence thy stroke controul, Thy purpose shake, and soften all thy soul?