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[in upper right hand corner: 102]

[E]legy written by J. [Wooled?] M. D. on the death of his Wife

Lo, to the iron hnd of Fate my dear [Hatia?], meek, souled mate [Resignd] her tuneful breath! Though locked her teeth, her lips the [illegible] and blue each harmless finger nail [there?[ beautiful in death.

[s]oon as I heard the last sweet sigh I saw her lovely closing eye how great was my surprise! [but?\ did I not with impious [heath?] [illegible] the [illegible] shaft of death nor blame the righteous skies!

[W]hy do I [groan?] in deep despair [illegible] a first [rate?] [illegible] fair; ah why my bosom [tonight?]? Could grief Hatia [two vertical lines?] life restore! But let me give such [savings?] over, Whatever is is right [Th]e friends who come to mourn her doom for Gods wake, gently head the room, nor call her from the blest! In softest silence [down?] the tear [Illegible] [wishes?] breath the fervent prayer To bid her spirit rest.

[Illegible] the [rad?] the wounding scream cannot bear such grief [illegible] [Illegible] - one little sigh! {illegible] the wild uproar of grief In many a [mind?] [might?] [naive?] belief That all our griefs' a lie.