[Pg 70]

[Pg 70]

TO THE MEMORY OF

MRS. EWING.

WRITTEN AFTER PERUSING THE INTERESTING MEMOIR COMPOSED BY HER HUSBAND, THE REV. GREVILLE EWING.

Daughter of Scotland! may a stranger twine

One cypress wreath around thy honoured urn?—

Yet, when I meditate on faith like thine,

I feel my breast with sacred ardour burn;

Deep admiration checks the starting tear,—

Such drops would stain a Ewing's holy bier!

Death was to thee a messenger of love;

He met thee in the path thy Saviour trod,

Bearing this blessed mandate from above,

"Come, happy spirit—come away to God!

Thy works of piety on earth are o'er,—

Plume thy bright wing to reach the heavenly shore!"

[Pg 71]

Calm was thy exit from this troubled scene;

Pain from thy lips no hasty murmurs wrung;

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