Oh! if in happier worlds than this The just rejoice — to thee is giv’n To taste the calm, undying bliss Eternally in that blue heav’n, Whither, thine earnest soul would flow, While yet it linger’d here below. If Beauty, Wit, and Virtue find In heav’n a more exalted throne, To thee such glory is assign’d, And thou art matchless and alone: Who lived on earth so pure — may grace In heav’n the brightest seraph’s place.
