Page:The works of Anna Laetitia Barbauld volume 1.djvu/303

Rh But O! should fate in some disastrous day,— Avert it Heaven!—the living form decay; Hide, hide, ye pitying friends, the mimic light, Veil, veil the image from my tortured sight; The shadow of past joys I could not bear, Nor would it speak of comfort, but despair.