This sampler is incomplete and worked on fine linen. The text with geometric border reads:
If every man’s internal care
Were written on his brow
How many would our pity share
That raise our envy now?
The fatal secret when revealed
Of every aching breast
Would show that only when concealed
It’s lot appeared the best
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day
The lowing herds wind slowly over the lea
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way
And leaves the world to darkness, and to me.
On Waterloo’s extensive plain
Lies many a gallant hero slain
It’s fertile soil produces what
This little flower forget me not’.
Verses one and two possibly translation from work of Italian poet Metastasio.
Verse three is stanza one from ‘Elegy in a Country Churchyard’ by English poet Thomas Gray.
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