The
Gratitude
.
My
injur'd
Love
,
thy
Anthems
cease
awhile
,
And
hear
my
Vows
with
an
accepting
Smile
.
By
thee
I
swear
,
by
thee
as
sacred
now
,
I'll
pay
thee
all
the
Passion
that
I
owe
.
Forgive
,
that
I
so
negligent
did
prove
,
Was
such
a
careless
Debtor
to
thy
Love
:
As
some
wild
Gallant
who
profusely
spends
That
on
his
Frolicks
,
which
should
pay
his
Friends
;
Yet
gives
good
Words
,
is
complaisant
and
kind
,
And
with
small
Presents
shews
his
thankful
Mind
.
So
did
I
manage
my
vast
stock
of
Love
,
Did
neither
just
,
nor
yet
ungrateful
prove
;
Heaven
knows
,
to
pay
thee
all
I
had
begun
,
But
the
neglected
Score
too
far
had
run
.
Fatal
Delay
,
for
now
the
dreadful
Sum
,
I
with
kind
Horror
offer
at
thy
Tomb
;
What'er
I
ow'd
thy
Life
,
I'll
pay
thy
Dust
,
Bring
all
th'
Arrears
of
Passion
,
and
be
Just
;
Accept
it
now
,
altho
alas
too
late
,
And
pity
this
sad
Pressure
of
my
Fate
.
Thou
wer't
so
pleas'd
with
what
thou
hadst
below
,
'Twould
raise
thy
Bliss
could'st
thou
my
Passion
know
,
That's
great
and
lasting
as
thy
Joys
are
now
.
Not
the
least
Thought
shall
to
ought
else
be
given
,
I
offer
all
to
thee
,
and
what
retains
thee
,
Heaven
.
Tho'
at
thy
Death
no
sable
Scenes
of
State
,
Nor
solemn
Pageantry
did
gild
thy
Fate
;
No
pompous
Griefs
of
a
Mechanick
Throng
Of
hir'd
Mourners
usher'd
thee
along
;
Nor
gaudy
Scutchion
daub'd
thy
early
Herse
,
Yet
'twas
adorn'd
with
thy
Clarinda's
Verse
:
One
moment's
Grief
of
mine
is
of
more
Cost
,
Than
a
Majestick
thirty
Days
can
boast
.
Those
pageant
Sorrows
on
the
Dead
bestow'd
,
But
touch
the
Fancy
of
the
gazing
Croud
,
Where
scarce
one
Tear
in
earnest
is
allow'd
.
Amidst
a
thousand
torturing
Pangs
I
live
,
Too
well
I
know
,
both
who
and
how
to
grieve
.
It
is
more
Honour
to
be
mourn'd
by
me
.
Than
all
their
stately
dark
Solemnity
,
Whose
Riches
purchase
a
forc'd
Obsequey
.
Tho'
on
thy
Grave
no
Statue
I
erect
,
Yet
the
smooth
Stone
shall
with
my
Tears
be
deck'd
.
No
,
take
a
Tomb
more
fitting
thy
Desert
,
Yes
,
I'll
inshrine
thee
in
my
generous
Heart
.
So
far
for
thee
a
Niobe
I'm
grown
,
That
now
'tis
fitting
for
that
Use
alone
.
No
Monument
more
glorious
or
safe
,
Grac'd
with
a
vital
crimson
Epitaph
.
My
bleeding
Heart
shall
this
Inscription
give
,
Not
here
you
Lie
,
but
here
for
ever
Live
.