FROM these numbers as they flow,
Shepherd-maids this moral know;
Soon shall Beauty's brightest bloom
Moulder in the cheerless tomb;
Charms that light the blaze of love,
Soon the force of time shall prove;
Vainly beams the glist'ning eye,
Quench'd in dust each star shall lie;
Yet when Death's destructive dart
Chills to rest the beating heart,
Virtue's flame unquench'd shall burn,
Cheer the grave, and gild the urn.