Citation - New York Chronicle: 1769.09.07

NYC.769.081
31 Aug-7 Sep 1769:1521 (1/19)
ELEGY.
Haste, haste, ye solemn messengers of night,
Spread the black mantle on the shrinking plain;
But ah! my torments still survive the light,
The changing seasons alter not my pain.
. . . [32 more lines]
Ye snow crown'd mountains lost to mortal eyes,
Down to the valleys bend your hoary head,
Ye lived comets, fire the peopled skies, 
For lady Betty's tabby cat is dead.