On these I gaze, on these my soul I bend, Breathe all my prayers, and offer every sigh; With these my joys, my hopes, my wishes blend,-- For these I live--for these I fain would die; These subject for my every thought supply-- Her picture smiles, unconscious of my woe, Benevolence beams from that azure eye, From mine the tears of bitter anguish flow, And yet she smiles serene, nor seems my grief to know! * * * * * Still let imagination view the saint, The seraph now--Camilla I behold!-- Such as the pen or pencil may not paint, In hues which shall not seem austerely cold. To fancy's eye her beauties still unfold. What fancy pictures in her wildest mood, What thought alone, and earth no more can mould She was; with all to charm mankind endued, Eve in her perfect state, in her once more renew'd! Chang'd is the scene! The coffin and the tomb Enfold that form where every grace combin'd! Death draws his veil--envelopes in his gloom The boast of earth--the wonder of mankind! She died--without reluctance, and resigned; Without reluctance, but one tear let fall In pity for the wretch she left behind, To curse existence on this earthly ball-- One thought she gave to him, and then the heavens had all. Who that hath seen her but hath felt her worth? Who praise withholds, and hopes to be forgiven? Her presence banish'd every thought of earth, Subdued each wish unfit to dwell in heaven. From all of earth her hopes and thoughts were riven, She lived regardful of the skies alone; A saint, but not by superstition driven, Not by the vow monastic, to atone For sins that ne'er were hers,--for sins to her unknown! Hers was religion from all dross refin'd, A soul communing with its parent--God; Grateful for benefits and aye resigned To every dispensation of His rod. Pure and immaculate, life's path she trod-- Envy grew pale and calumny was dumb! Till drooping, dying--this floriferous sod, And this plain marble, point her lowly tomb; Even here she still inspires a reverential gloom! O lost to earth, yet ever bless'd,--farewell! This poor oblation to thy grave I bring; O spotless maid, that now in heav'n dost dwell Where choral saints and radiant angels sing The eternal praises of the Almighty king; While this sad cypress and funereal yew Unite their boughs, their gloom around me fling, Congenial glooms, that all my own renew; I still invoke thy shade, still pause to bid adieu! SONNET.