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Lettered inside image: "49 | And will not the severe excuse a sigh? | Scorn the proud man that is ashamed to weep; | Our tears indulged indeed deserve our shame: | Ye that e'er lost an angel! pity me. | Soon as the lustre languish'd in her eye, | Dawning a dimmer day on human sight; | And on her cheek, the residence of spring, | Pale omen sat, and scatter'd fears around | On all that saw, and who would cease to gaze | That once had seen? with haste, parental haste | I flew, I snatch'd her from the rigid north, | Her native bed, on which bleak boreas blew, | And bore her nearer to the sun; the sun, | As if the sun could envy, check'd his beam, | Denied his wonted succour, nor with more | Regret beheld her drooping, than the bells | Of lilies! fairest lilies not so fair. | Queen lilies! and ye painted populace! | Who dwell in fields, and lead ambrosial lives; | In morn and evening dew your beauties bathe, | And drink the sun, which gives your cheeks to glow, | And out-blush, mine excepted, every fair; | You gladlier grew, ambitious of her hand | Which often cropp'd your odours, incense meet | To thought so pure: ye lovely fugitives! | Coeval race with man, for man you smile; | Why not smile at him too? you share indeed | His sudden pass, but not his constant pain. | So man is made, nought ministers delight | But what his growing passions can engage;"; lower right: "inv & s | WB"; lower left: "London, Pubd. June 27, 1796, by R Edwards, 142 New Bond Strt."; Lettered on facing page: "48 | It call'd her tender soul by break of bliss, | From the first blossom, from the buds of joy-- | Those few our noxious fate unblasted leaves | In this inclement clime of human life. | Sweet harmonist! and beautiful as sweet-- | And young as beautiful--and soft as young-- | And gay as soft--and innocent as gay-- | And happy, if aught happy here, as good! | For fortune fond had built her nest on high. | Like birds quite exquisite of note and plume, | Transfix'd by fate who loves a lofty mark, | How from the summit of the grove she fell | And left it inharmonious! all its charm | Extinguish'd in the wonders of her song! | Her song still vibrates in my ravish'd ear | Still melting there, and with voluptuous pain | O to forget her! thrilling through my heart! | Song, beauty, youth, love, virtue, joy! this group | Of bright ideas, flowers of paradise | As yet unforfeit! in one blaze we bind, | Kneel, and present it to the skies as all | We guess of heaven: and these were all her own, | And she was mine; and I was--was!--most blest-- | Gay title of the deepest misery! | As bodies grow more pond'rous robb'd of life; | Good lost weighs more in grief, than gain'd in joy: | Like blossom'd trees o'erturn'd by vernal storm, | Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay; | And if in death still lovely, lovelier there | Far lovelier! pity swells the tide of love."