Classic Poem

WRITTEN LONG AFTER THE TALE .

O DEAREST daughter, of two dearest friends,
To thee my muse this little tale commends.
Loving and lov'd, regard thy future mate,
Long love his person, though deplore his fate;
Seem young when old in thy dear husband's arms,
For constant virtue has immortal charms.
And, when I lie low sepulchred in earth,
And the glad year returns thy day of birth,
Vouchsafe to say, " Ere I could write or spell,
The bard, who from my cradle wish'd me well,
Told me I should the prating sparrow blame,
And bad me imitate the turtle's flame. "