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ANGELS, whose guardian care is ENGLAND, spread
Your shadowing wings o'er Patriot WENTWORTH dead:
With sacred awe his hallow'd ashes keep,
Where Commerce, Science, Honor, Friendship weep,
The pious Heir, the deeply sorrowing Wife,
All the soft ties which bless'd his virtuous life.
Gentle, Intrepid, Generous, Mild, & Just:
These heartfelt titles grac'd his honor'd dust.
No fields of blood, by laurels ill repaid,
No plunder'd provinces disturb his shade:
But white-rob'd Peace compos'd his closing eyes,
And join'd with soft Humanity her sighs:
They mourn their Patron gone, their Friend no more,
And ENGLAND'S tears his short-liv'd power deplore.
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