ON THE SUDDEN DEATH OF A YOUNG GENTLEMAN

The veil of night was drawn aside,
 The sky was beaming red;
 In youth and health's luxuriant pride
 Ross lightly left his bed. 

He call'd his dog — he seiz'd his gun —
 He flew to yonder plain,
 Elated with the rising sun,
 But ne'er return'd again. 

 "In luck," — he cries, "I've shot my bird" —
 He stops — and pants for breath —
 He never spoke another word,
 But clos'd his eyes in death. 

An Angel mark'd him from his birth;
 And, when the doom was given,
 Did crop the sweetest bud on earth
 To bloom and blow in heaven!