We mourn'd thy absence, from our scene retir'd,
Each longing heart again thy charms desir'd.
Yet still, alas! we hop'd again to view
Our wish, our pleasure, every joy in you!
Again thy looks might grace the tragic rage;
Again thy spirit fill the comic stage.
But lo! Disease hangs hovering o'er thy head;
Dire Danger stalks around thy frighted bed!
Those starry eyes have lost each beamy ray,
And ghastly Sickness makes the fair her prey!
Death shuts the scene! — and all our hopes are o'er!
Those beauties now must glad the sight no more!