Epitaph, on a Young Lady, Who Died Unmarried
I.
Ripe in virtue, green in years,
Here, a matchless maid lies low:
None cou'd read, and spare their tears,
Did they but her sweetness know.
II.
Humbly wise, and meekly good,
No earthly lover's arms she blest;
But, full of grace , her Saviour woo'd,
And hides her blushes , in his breast,
Ripe in virtue, green in years,
Here, a matchless maid lies low:
None cou'd read, and spare their tears,
Did they but her sweetness know.
II.
Humbly wise, and meekly good,
No earthly lover's arms she blest;
But, full of grace , her Saviour woo'd,
And hides her blushes , in his breast,
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