Why should ye thus, to prove but vainly kind ,
Add a weak body to a sickly mind ?
Could but your pious grief recal her breath,
Or tears of duty win her back from death ;
We would not blame the passion you express,
But share it with you, if 'twould make it less !

 B UT oh! when certain death's uncertain hour
Exerts his known, his unresisted pow'r;
When we are summon'd from our cares , below,
To joys , which living merit must not know;
When souls, like you dear mother's , quit their clay,
And change earth's darkness for eternal day :
From their bliss-circled seats, perhaps, they view
These humbler regions , which themselves once knew.
And swell'd with thoughts , which make the angels kind,
Pity the pledges , they have left behind.

 T IS true, the loss you mourn, is vastly great ,
But in that loss, your country shares your fate;
The public good , her wishes would have done,
Made ev'ry man , in ev'ry land, her son :
Thence, lovely mourners! give us leave to prove,
We ought to share your grief, who shar'd your mother's love.

 Y ET , may all parties make their sorrow less,
And you , and we , concern enough express ;
You may, with comfort , calm your ruffled mind ,
To think , your mother left her cares behind;
And we , tho' losers, should be thankful too,
Since we are still left rich , possessing you .