Forms! why will you fleet away,
And leave me to the Terrors of the Day?
In vain from Reason I expect Relief;
For sad Reflection doubles ev'ry Grief.
Some of my Friends in Death's cold Arms I see;
Others, tho, living, yet are dead to me?
Of Friends, and Children both, I am bereft,
And soon must lose the only Blessing left;
A Husband form'd for Tenderness and Truth,
The lov'd, the kind Companion of my Youth;
With him, thro' various Storms of Fate I pass'd;
Relentless Fate! — And must we part at last?
O King of Terrors, I invoke thy Pow'r;
Oh! stand between me and that dreadful Hour;
From that sad Hour thy wretched Suppliant save;
Oh! shield me from it! — Hide me in the Grave!