Woman Speaker monologue (Act 3) — Dalziels' Illustrated Goldsmith

Our vows are heard! long, long to mortal eyes, Her soul was fitting to its kindred skies; Celestial-like her bounty fell, Where modest want and silent sorrow dwell: Want pass'd for merit at her door, Unseen the modest were supplied, Her constant pity fed the poor,— Then only poor, indeed, the day she died. And, oh! for this, while sculpture decks thy shrine, And art exhausts profusion round, The tribute of a tear be mine, A simple song, a sigh profound. There Faith shall come a pilgrim grey, To bless the tomb that wraps thy clay; And calm Religion shall repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there. Truth, Fortitude, and Friendship shall agree To blend their virtues while they think of thee.