Thomas Tickell

There taught us how to live; and (oh! too high The price for knowledge) taught us how to die.

I hear a voice you cannot hear, Which says I must not stay; I see a hand you cannot see, Which beckons me away.

He 'midst the graceful of superior grace, And she the loveliest of the loveliest race.

though every friend be fled, Lo! Envy waits, that lover of the dead.

The sweetest garland to the sweetest maid.

A snow of blossoms and a wild of flowers.

There patient show'd us the wise course to steer, A candid censor, and a friend severe; There taught us how to live; and (oh! too high The price for knowledge) taught us how to die.

Nor e'er was to the bowers of bliss conveyed A fairer spirit or more welcome shade.

Just men, by whom impartial laws were given; And saints who taught and led the way to heaven.

Fight virtue's cause, stand up in wit's defence, Win us from vice, and laugh us into sense.

Prevent the rising sun.