How has your bounty cheer'd my humble state,
And chang'd the colour of my gloomy fate!
Still shall your image sooth my pensive soul,
When slow-pac'd moments, big with mischiefs, roll;
Still shall I, eager, wait your wish'd return,
From that bright Fair who decks a  urn
With deathless glories; every ardent prayer
Which gratitude can waft from souls sincere,
Each warm return to generous bounty due,
Shall warm my heart for you and .
Blest pair! O, had not souls like your's been given,
The stupid Atheist well might doubt a Heaven;
Convinc'd, he now deserts his gloomy stand,
Owns  the noblest proof of a creating hand.