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ON THE DECEASE OF MRS. GRAHAM.
HARK! did I hear the tolling bell
Emit a sound of wo?
That Death has struck a blow :
And could it sound the valued name,
Of her, who low is laid;
The poor would feel dismay'd.
Her love was ardent to her God,
His precepts touch'd her beart,
Rich blessings to impart.
Struck with the grace that Jesus show'd,
For guilty man to die;
His name to glorify.
Her ardent step was wont to seek
Affliction's narrow door ;
In mercy to the poor :
With sympathy she heard their tale,
And brought her comforts nigh;
To lead their thoughts on high.
The orphan's innocence would melt
Her feeling heart to tears;
Had interest in her prayers.
Her active mind, with wisdom stor'd,
Beheld the widow's grief,
The destitute relief.
Occasioned by viewing the Portrait of the late Mrs. ISABELLA
GRAHAM, which is prefixed to her life.
WHILST in this faded form I trace,
The features which I lov'd so well,
Within its hallow'd shrine to dwell.
For 1 have seen that darken'd eye,
In all the fire of genius roll,
The secret workings of the soul
Suffus'd with feeling's richest glow;
With sacred charms these locks of snow.
And on these lips in silence clos'd,
With rapt attention oft I hung,
Which Sages taught or Seraphs sung.
Extended wide the poor to bless-
With generous schemes to aid distress.
And every scene of mortal pain,
Shall many a drooping neart sustain.
The hapless orphan's want supply,
And point to happier realms on high.
By his unworthy offspring given,
What Angels register'd in heav'n.
* By the manner in which the funds arising from the sale of the work are to be appropriated.