Tho' through the heart no purple tide should flow,
No quiv'ring nerve should vibrate to the brain,
The mental pow'rs no mean dependence know;
Thought may survive, and each fair passion reign;
As when  ends the pangful strife,
Lifts the young babe, and lights her lambent flame,
Some pow'rs new-waking hail the dawning life,
Some unsuspended live, unchang'd, the same;
So from our dust fresh faculties may bloom,
Some posthumous survive, and triumph o'er the tomb.