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TO Miss R----
On her lov'd child behold the mother gaze,
In weakneſs pleas'd, and ſmiling thro' decays,
And leaning on that breaſt her cares aſſwage;
How ſoft a pillow for declining age!
For this, when that fair frame muſt feel decay,
(Ye fates protract it to a diſtant day)
When thy approach no tumults ſhall impart,
Nor that commanding glance ſtrike thro' the heart,
When meaner beauties ſhall have leave to ſhine,
And crowds divide the homage lately thine,
Not with the tranſient praiſe thoſe charms can boaſt
Shall thy fair fame and gentle deeds be loſt:
Some pious hand ſhall thy weak limbs ſuſtain,
And pay thee back theſe generous cares again;
Thy name ſhall ſlouriſh by the good approv'd,
Thy memory honour'd, and thy duſt belov'd.
