The spot fraternal love has sacred made,
Solemn, yet sweet, like groves in twilight gloom,
Mem'ry revisits, and beneath its shade
Faintly it sees each faded joy re-bloom.

By Fancy led, from Death's cold bed of stone,
Lovely, tho' wan, what cherish'd form appears?
Oh! gentle Anna[A]! at thy name alone,
Genius, and Grace, and Virtue, smile in tears.

Half-wrapp'd in mist I see thy figure move,
O'er thy pale cheek appears its wonted smile;
With lunar lustre beam those looks of love,
That once could life of ev'ry care beguile:

Faintly I hear thy angel-voice again;
There's music in the sweet and dying sound;
Like Philomela's soft and echo'd strain,
It spreads a soothing consolation round.

Adieu, bless'd shade!--Imagination roves
To distant regions, o'er th' Atlantic wave;
Ah! not to genial skies, or fragrant groves,
To drop a tear upon a kindred grave.

Hard was thy fate, Eliza[B]!--It was thine,
Tho' wit thy mind, tho' beauty grac'd thy form,
Behind Affliction's weeping cloud to shine,
With star-like radiance, in a night of storm.