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Ned Farmer's Scrap Book.
25
Monody on Grace Darling.
'Twere impious to weep, the gentle maiden dead;
Let not one tear of selfish love be shed,
Nor dare repine that Providence denies
A longer absence from her native skies.
It was a mighty mission, which complete,
Her happy spirit takes its well-earned seat
At His right hand, who practises alone,
A more extended mercy than her own.
Happy thy lot, dear Grace, for whom it was decreed,
To crowd a life of virtue into one immortal deed.
A very High-pressure Impromptu.
Dearest Miss Fenton, the Graces were bent on
Surpassing all yet they had done,;
So each lent her aid, in bedecking a maid,
And, loveliest! thou art that one!
