Resign'd, dear maid, to earth's maternal breast,
May sister Seraphs chant thy soul to rest.
There shall the constant Amaranthus bloom,
And wings of Zephyrs shed the morn's perfume.
O'er thy sad hearse, fair emblems of the dead,
By virgin hands are dying lilies shed.
The weeping Graces shall thy tomb surround;
The Loves with broken darts shall strew the ground;
In vain for thee they wak'd the fond desires,
Wove myrtle wreaths, and fann'd their purer fires.
The youthful God, who joins the nuptial bands,
In vain expecting, near his altar stands;
Fate spread the cloud: his torch extinct, he flies,
And veils with saffron robe his streaming eyes.