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ТО ТНЕ МEMORY
THE SAME LADY.
A MONOD Y. A. D. 1747.
"Ipfe .cavâ folans ægrum teftudine amorem, "Te dulcis conjux, te folo in littore fecum, Te veniente die, te decedente canebat."
AT-length efcap'd from every
From every duty, every care,
That in my mournful thoughts might claim a fhare,
Or force my tears their flowing stream to dry;
Can on th' ennobled mind beftow,
Ye tufted groves, ye gently-falling rills,
Ye lawns gay-fmiling with eternal green,
never fhall you now behold her more:
Nor will the now with fond delight
Oft would the Dryads of thefe woods rejoice
For her defpifing, when she deign'd to sing,
And every fhepherd's flute
Was caft in filent fcorn away,
While all attended to her fweeter lay. "Ye larks and linnets, now refume your fong:
And thou, melodious Philomel,
Again thy plaintive story tell;
For death has ftopt that tuneful tongue,
Whofe mufic could alone your warbling notes excel.
In vain I look around
O'er all the well-known ground,
My Lucy's wonted footsteps to deiery;
Where oft in tender talk
We faw the fummer fun go down the sky;
Nor where its waters glide
Along the valley, can fhe now be found :
Can aught of her efpy,
But the fad facred earth where her dear relicks lie.
O fhades of Hagley, where is now your boaft?
You the preferr'd to all the gay reforts
pomp of cities, and the pride of courts. Her modeft beauties fhunn'd the public eye: To your fequefter'd dales
And flower-embroider'd vales
From an admiring world fhe chofe to fly :
With Nature there retir'd, and Nature's God,
The filent paths of wisdom trod,
And banish'd every paffion from her breast,
Sweet babes, who, like the little playful Fawns,
Who now your infant steps fhall guide?
To every virtue would have form'd your youth, And ftrew'd with flowers the thorny ways of truth? O lofs beyond repair!
O wretched father! left alone,
their dire misfortune, and thy own! How shall thy weaken'd mind, opprefs'd with woe,
And drooping o'er thy Lucy's grave, Perform the duties that you doubly owe! Now the, alas! is gone,
From folly and from vice their helpless age to fave?
Where were ye, Mufes, when relentless Fate
To guard her bofom from the mortal blow?
Could not your favouring power, Aonian maids, Could not, alas! your power prolong her date, For whom so oft in thefe infpiring fhades, Or under Camden's mofs-clad mountains hoar, You open'd all your facred store,
Whate'er your ancient fages taught,
Your ancient bards fublimely thought,
And bade her raptur'd breast with all your spirit glow?
Nor then did Pindus or Caftalia's plain,
Befet with ofiers dank,
Nor where + Clitumnus rolls his gentle ftream,
Anio pours his floods,
Nor yet where | Meles or § Iliffus stray.
Ill does it now befeem,
That, of your guardian care bereft,
To dire difeafe and death your darling should be left.
Now what avails it that in early bloom,
When light fantastic toys
Are all her fex's joys,
you fhe fearch'd the wit of Greece and Rome; And all that in her latter days
To emulate her ancient praise
* The Mintio runs by Mantua, the birth-place of
The Clitumnus is a river of Umbria, the refidence of Propertius.
The Anio runs through Tibur or Tivoli, where Horace had a villa.
The Meles is a river of Ionia, from whence Homer, fuppofed to be born on its banks, is called Melifigenes. The Iliffus is a river at Athens.