⁠The monument of thine eternal grief,
That guards her ashes! Different she consoled,
⁠Hastening in charity, as for relief

The poor unhappy and the orphans knew!
⁠For whom she ever show'd a parent's care:
They who partook her gifts and kindness true,
⁠Now in long files and slow, thy griefs to share

Silent and mournful on thy steps attend,
⁠Around her tomb; dost thou not hear them? theirs,
Theirs are the tearful sobbings that ascend,
⁠And cries that interrupt the funeral prayers.

Not ev'n a flower to deck her sepulchre,
⁠Have I to send thee! flowers may not be grown
To bud in beds of ice; or if they were,
⁠They soon would wither at my touch alone.