On The Death Of Jeremiah Ives, Esq.

SLOW to the silent mansions of the dead,
Yon train in sad funereal pomp draws near;
That solemn knell proclaims a spirit fled,
Whose honour'd memory asks the grateful tear.
How shall my Muse the arduous task pursue,
His life of active usefulness display?
The tribute to his public virtues due,
The voice of public fame shall justly pay.
Benevolence and candour mark'd his mind,
First to support each philanthropic plan;
For him the city weeps, in whom were join'd
The upright Magistrate, the friend of man.
Their patron dead the poor shall wail with grief,
Whose lengthen'd years were lent mankind to bless;
Who ne'er to Want's sad cry refused relief,
Still prompt to soothe each species of distress.
Ye mourners, let your sorrows cease to flow,
Eternal Truth th' assuring word has giv'n,
Those who delight in Mercy's deeds below,
Blest with its brightest beams shall shine in heav'n.