When warm with youth we tread the flow'ry way. Whilft now for rattles, now for nymphs we burn; Left it from nature lead us quite aftray; ODE, to a LA D Y. O D E, to On the Death of Col. CHARLES Ross, in the Action at Fontenoy. Written May 1745. W By Mr. W. COLLINS. I. HILE, loft to all his former mirth,' And mourns the fatal day; While, ftain'd with blood, he strives to tear The wreaths of cheerful May; The thoughts which musing pity pays, Your faithful hours attend; Still fancy, to herself unkind, Awakes to grief the soften'd mind, And points the bleeding friend. III. By III. By rapid Scheld's defcending wave That facred spot the village hind With every fweetest turf fhall bind, And peace protect the shade. IV. O'er him, whofe doom thy virtues grieve, Aerial forms fhall fit at eve And bend the penfive head! And, fall'n to fave his injur'd land, Imperial Honour's aweful hand Shall point his lonely bed! V. The warlike dead of every age, Who fill the fair recording page, Shall leave their fainted rest: And, half-reclining on his fpear, Each wond'ring Chief by turns appear, To hail the blooming guest. VI. Old VI. Old EDWARD's fons, unknown to yield, Again for Britain's wrongs they feel, Again they fnatch the gleamy steel, And wifh th' avenging fight. VII. If, weak to footh so soft an heart, These pictur'd glories nought impart To dry thy constant tear; If yet in forrow's distant eye, Expos'd and pale thou seest him lie, Wild war infulting near. VIII. Where-e'er from time thou court'st relief, The Muse shall still with social grief Ev'n humble HARTING'S cottag'd vale Shall learn the fad repeated tale, And bid her shepherds weep. VOL. I. A a O DE, OW fleep the brave, who fink to rest. Ho By all their country's wishes bleft! When Spring with dewy fingers cold, By fairy hands their knell is rung, By forms unfeen their dirge is fung; ODE " |