Page:The works of Anna Laetitia Barbauld volume 1.djvu/300

216 Yet mourn!—for sweet the filial sorrows flow, When fond affection prompts the gush of woe; No bitter drop, 'midst nature's kind relief, Sheds gall into the fountain of your grief; No tears you shed for patient love abused, And counsel scorned, and kind restraints refused ; Not yours the pang the conscious bosom wrings, When late Remorse inflicts her fruitless stings. Living you honoured her, you mourn for dead; Her God you worship, and her path you tread: Your sighs shall aid reflection's serious hour, And cherished virtues bless the kindly shower: On the loved theme your lips unblamed shall dwell; Your lives, more eloquent, her worth shall tell.— Long may that worth, fair Virtue's heritage, From race to race descend, from age to age! Still purer with transmitted lustre shine, The treasured birthright of the spreading line!