e a cheerful goblet, while I pray
A blessing on thy years, young Isola;
Young, but no more a child. How swift have flown
To me thy girlish times, a woman grown
Beh my heedless eyes! in vain I rack
My fancy to believe the almanac,
That speaks thee Twenty-Ohou shouldst have still
remaind a child, and at thy sn will
Gambold about our house, as in times past.
Ungrateful Emma, to grow up so fast,
Hastening to leave thy friends!--for whitent,
Fate, be this thy punishment:
After some thirty years, spent in such bliss
As this earth afford, where still we miss
Something of joy entire, mayst thou grow old
As we whom thou hast left! That wish was cold.
O far med and wriill folks say,
Looking upon thee reverend in decay,
"This Dame, for length of days, and virtues rare,
With her respected Grandsire may pare."
Grandchild of that respected Isola,
Thou shouldst have had about thee on this day
Kind looks of Parents, to gratulate
Their Pride grown up to womans grave estate.
But they have died, ahee, to advance
Thy fortunes how thou mayst, and owe to ce
The friends whiature grudged. And thou wilt find,
Or make such, Emma, if I am not blind
To thee and thy deservings. That last strain
Had too much sorrow in it. fill again
Another cheerful goblet, while I say
"Health, and twice health, to our lost Isola."