TO THE MEMORY OF THE HONORABLE MISS CAROLINE CAMPBEL. Isabella Kelly (née Fordyce) 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. T122123 Kelly, Isabella, 1759-1857. Collection of Poems and Fables on Several Occasions. London W. Richardson 1794 pp. 36-37. 72p.

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TO THE MEMORY OF THE HONORABLE MISS CAROLINE CAMPBEL . How soft the morn ! how sweet the early day ! What blooming tints the opening clouds display ! Delusive shades ! the bleakest storms oft rise , And cloud the brightness of the purest skies . In blushing spring the budding leaves may fall , And ye , you fair , receive an early call ; Ah ! Caroline ! how promising thy bloom ! How chang'd , how sad , how sunk in sorrow's gloom ! How fair thy prospects ! charming maid , how bright , Which death relentless veils in endless night ; Blights those sweet hopes admiring friends had form'd , Chill'd that soft friendship which thy bosom warm'd . Why did not pitying powers thy virtue save , Preserve our hopes from disappointment's grave ? Form'd with each grace that could enrich the mind , With wit , with sentiment , and sense refin'd ; The gentlest soul inform'd her glowing breast , Heaven's meekest image on her form imprest ; The softest mercy , purity , and truth , Adorn'd her name , gave lustre to her youth : Heaven , that with virtue did her heart endow , Sent her a pattern for her sex below . Ye fair companions of her opening bloom , Weep o'er her dust , and profit at her tomb ; She once was all the human kind adore ; " Now view her relics , and be vain no more . " What now alas ! avails her noble birth , Her easy manners , her distinguish'd worth ! Silent and cold as yon pale marble bust , Reduc'd her honors to unconscious dust . And shall no more thy friends behold thy face , No more be charm'd by thy persuasive grace ! And shall no more thy accents chear the maid , Who now invokes thy lov'd , thy honor'd shade ? Transporting hope ! in realms of brightest day , Thy soul shall gain that spark , that quick'ning ray , To wake , re-animate thy sleeping clay . Extatic thought ! in those bright realms above I'll hail thy virtues with an angel's love ; When a few fleeting years shall set me free , My soul , unshackled , then shall fly to thee ; But if on earth I longer must reside , Oh ! then blest Caroline be still my guide ! And should thy spirit know what passes here , Oh ! deign to dry the hapless Mary's tear ; Be that , sweet maid , thy sacred , soft employ , Till she shall meet thee for eternal joy .