Lines To W. L. While He Sang A Song To Purcell's Music

While my young cheek retains its healthful hues,
  And I have many friends who hold me dear;
  L----! methinks, I would not often hear
Such melodies as thine, lest I should lose
All memory of the wrongs and sore distress,
  For which my miserable brethren weep!
  But should uncomforted misfortunes steep
My daily bread in tears and bitterness;
And if at death's dread moment I should lie,
  With no beloved face at my bed-side,
To fix the last glance of my closing-eye,
  Methinks, such strains, breathed by my angel-guide,
Would make me pass the cup of anguish by,
  Mix with the blest, nor know that I had died!