Occasion'd
by
seeing
some
Verses
written
by
Mrs.
Constantia
Grierson
,
upon
the
Death
of
her
Son.
This
mourning
Mother
can
with
Ease
explore
The
Arts
of
Latium
,
and
the
Grecian
Store
:
Was
early
learn'd
,
nay
more
,
was
early
wise
;
And
knew
the
Pride
of
Science
to
despise
;
Left
Men
to
take
assuming
Airs
from
thence
;
And
seem'd
unconscious
of
superior
Sense
.
Yet
,
ah
!
how
vain
to
guard
the
Soul
,
we
see
,
Are
the
best
Precepts
of
Philosophy
!
See
Nature
triumph
o'er
the
boasted
Art
,
Ev'n
in
a
See
Plutarch's
Life
of
Solou
.
Solon's
,
and
Constantia's
Heart
.
See
how
she
mourns
her
Son's
untimely
Doom
,
And
pours
her
Woes
o'er
the
relentless
Tomb
.
Soften
,
kind
Heav'n
,
her
seeming
rigid
Fate
,
With
frequent
Visions
of
his
blissful
State
:
Oft
let
the
Guardian
Angel
of
her
Son
Tell
her
in
faithful
Dreams
,
His
Task
is
done
;
Shew
,
how
he
kindly
led
her
lovely
Boy
To
Realms
of
Peace
,
and
never-fading
Joy
.
Then
,
for
a
while
,
reverse
his
happy
Fate
;
Shew
him
still
here
,
still
in
this
wretched
State
:
Shew
the
false
World
,
seducing
him
from
Truth
;
And
paint
the
slipp'ry
,
dang'rous
Paths
of
Youth
:
Shew
him
,
in
riper
Years
,
beset
with
Snares
,
Weary'd
with
struggling
thro'
unnumber'd
Cares
:
Convey
him
thence
to
Life's
remotest
Stage
,
To
feel
the
dire
Calamities
of
Age
;
Oppress'd
with
Sorrows
,
with
Distempers
torn
,
Or
rack'd
with
Guilt
,
much
harder
to
be
borne
.
Raise
the
Distress
;
and
let
her
darling
Care
,
Distracted
in
the
Horrors
of
Despair
,
The
dreadful
Scene
of
Judgment
op'ning
see
,
And
,
trembling
,
plunge
into
Eternity
.
Then
ask
her
,
Would
she
call
him
down
from
Bliss
,
To
hazard
such
a
dismal
Doom
as
this
?
That
she
may
learn
to
be
resign'd
from
thence
,
And
bless
the
Guardian
Hand
,
that
snatch'd
him
hence
.