Classic Poem

HERE lie the remains of Caroline,
Queen consort of Great Britain,
Whose virtues
Her friends, when living, knew and enjoy'd;
Now dead, her foes confess and admire.
Her ambition aspired to wisdom,
And attained it;
To knowledge,
And it fill'd her mind,
Patroness of the wise,
And a friend of the good,
She look'd, and modest merit rais'd its head;
She smil'd, and weeping woe grew glad.
Religion, plain and simple,
Dignify'd her mind,
Despising forms and useless pageantry.
Morals, clear and refin'd,
Dwelt in her heart,
And guided all her actions.
Virtue she lov'd, beneath her smile it flourish'd;
She srown'd on vice and it was put to shame.
In fine,
Her life was a public blessing;
Her death is an universal loss.
O reader! if thou doubtest of these things,
Ask the cries of the fatherless they shall tell thee,
And the tears of the widow shall confirm their truth.
The sons of wisdom shall testify of her,
And the daughters of virtue bear her witness;
The voice of the nation shall applaud her,
And the heart of the king shall sigh her praise.