Upon the lofty fummit, round her brow T length efcap'd from every human eye, A From every duty, every care, That in my mournful thoughts might claim a fhare, This lone retreat for tender forrow made, Of grief furpaffing every other woe, Far as the pureft bliss, the happiest love Can on th' enobled mind beftow, Exceeds the vulgar joys that move Our grofs defires, inelegant and low. Ye tufted groves, ye gently-falling rills, Ye lawns gay-fmiling with eternal green. But never fhall you now behold her more: And tafte refin'd, your rural charms explore, Clos'd are thofe beauteous eyes in endless night, Thofe beauteous eyes, where beaming us'd to shine Reafon's pure light, and Virtue's spark divine, Oft would the Dryads of these woods rejoice, For her defpifing, when she deign'd to fing, And every shepherd'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 stery tell ; For death has stopp'd that tuneful tongue, Whofe mufic could alone your warbling notes excel. In vain I look round O'er the well-known ground, We saw the fummer-fun go down the sky; Nor where its waters glide Along the valley, can the now be found Can aught of her espy, But the fad facred earth where her dear relick's lie. O fhades of Hagley, where is now your boast? Your bright inhabitant is loft. You she preferr'd to all the gay reforts. Where female vanity might with to fhine, The pomp of cities, and the pride of courts. Her modest beauties, fhunn'd the public eye: And flower embroider'd vales, From an admiring world the chose to fly. And banish'd every paffion from her breast Sweet babes! who, like the little playful fawns, Were wont to trip along those verdant lawns By your delighted mother's fide, Who now you infant fteps fhall guide? Ah! where is now the hand whofe tender care O wretched father; left alone, To weep their dire misfortune, and thy own! How fhall thy weaken'd mind, oppress'd with woe! And drooping o'er thy Lucy's grave, Perform the duties that you doubly owe! Now fhe, alas! is gone, From folly and from vice their helpicfs age to fave? Where were ye, Mufes, when relentless Fate To guard her bofom from the mortal blow? Whate'er your ancient sages taught, Your ancient bards fublimely thought, And bade her raptur'd breaft with all your spirit glow? Nor then did Pindus or Caftalia's plain, Or Aganippe's fount, your steps detain, Nor in the Thespian vallies did you play; Nor then on Mincio's bank Befet with offers dank, Nor where Clitumnus rolls his gentle ftream, Steep Anio pours his floods. Nor yet where Meles or Illifus ftray, Ill does it now befeem, That of your guardian care bereft, To dire difeafe and death your darling should be left. |