ON THE DEATH OF J—. H—. ESQ. JUNE, 1790. Janet Little (later Richmond) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T126549 Little, Janet, 1759-1813. The Poetical Works of Janet Little, the Scotch Milkmaid. Air Printed by John & Peter Wilson 1792 pp. [133-137.

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ON THE DEATH OF J — . H — . ESQ . JUNE , 1790. ERE Phoebus' beams exhal'd the pearly dew , While hoary moisture all the fields o'erspread , Where ozier cypress , and the drooping yew , Had form'd a musing melancholy shade . Belinda sat , bedew'd with briny tears , The echoing grove her deep-fetch'd sighs retain ; Her plaintive note distress'd my list'ning ears , While in low accents thus she did complain . " And is the pleasing scene , alas ! no more ! Corrosive grief now on my vitals prey ! Distress'd , in sighs I spend the heavy hour , Nor feel of comfort one auspicious ray ! Now gloomy visions hover round my bed , More sadd'ning thoughts my waking hours employ ! Hope's balmy whispers are for ever fled , And far remov'd is ev'ry gleam of joy ! My former days can never more return ; Each future prospect darkens on my view ; Life's rugged paths seem dreary and forlorn ; No kindly hand does there sweet flow'rets strew . Alas ! on life's tempestuous ocean tost , Become a prey to each high swelling wave , My ev'ry hope of happiness is lost — Laid in the silent , solitary grave ! No more , O death ! thy pointed shafts I dread ! Thy keenest darts I hourly wish to share ; Since my lov'd HENRY'S number'd with the dead , Nought in this world can now engage my care ! Ah ! what to me avails the radiant sky , The verdant meadow , or the vocal grove ? No kind companion shares the melting joy , And tunes his lute to melody and love . He was — but oh ! no language can express — What my lov'd HENRY ever was to me : My joy in health , my support in distress , My lover , friend , and tender husband he . For me a parent's love he did forego , With all the pleasures of his native shore : On me alone did ev'ry care bestow ; He saw me happy , and he wish'd no more . Keen recollection animates my pain , And all my pleasures past augment my woes ; Yet fond remembrance shall those joys retain , While vital life within this bosom flows . " Thus spoke Belinda , on the turf reclin'd ; No ray of hope her sadd'ning fancy cheer'd : When from a thicket , as by heav'n design'd , A nymph celestial in her sight appear'd . Her flowing robes wav'd in the ambient air ; A flow'ry wreath her modest temples grac'd ; Her presence kindly smooth'd the brow of care , And all the horrors of the scene effac'd . Array'd in heav'nly smiles she onward came ; Vain phantoms her superior pow'r confest : She view'd the sad , dejected , mournful dame , And thus in soothing accents her address'd . " Do not Belinda at thy fate repine , Nor by thy tears augment the pond'rous load ; The lovely youth must be no longer thine : He's gone , such is the sov'reign will of GOD . He's gone to flourish in a fairer soil , A plant too noble for this noxious clime : Where virtue must triumphant ever smile , He'll share of joys extatic and sublime . Vain are thy sorrows , vain the sighs of those , Who did his favour or his friendship share : He's gone beyond the reach of human woes , Above the weight of ev'ry worldly care . Pure were the virtues center'd in his breast , With unassuming rectitude they sway'd : His tongue the dictates of his heart express'd , While his mild manners more than words convey'd ! But human bliss is of a transient date , Nor permanent thy woes , tho' now severe : Soon shall you meet in a celestial state , And then no more the pangs of parting fear .