Twas there of just and good he reason'd strong,
Clear'd fome great truth, or rais'd fome ferious fong
There patient show'd us the wife course to steer,
A candid cenfor and a friend fincere ;

There taught us how to live; and (oh! too high
The price for knowledge) taught us how to die.

Thou hill, whofe brow the antique ftructures grace,
Rear'd by bold chiefs of Warwick's noble race,
Why, once fo lov'd, when-e'er thy bower appears,
O'er my dim eye-balls glance the fudden tears!
How sweet were once thy prospects fresh and fair,
Thy floping walks and unpolluted air!
How sweet the glooms beneath thy aged trees,
Thy noon-tide shadow, and the evening breeze!
His image thy forfaken bowers restore;
Thy walks and airy prospects charm no more;
No more the fummer in thy glooms allay'd,
Thy evening breezes, and thy noon-day fhade.
From other ills, however fortune frown'd,
Some refuge in the Mufe's art I found;
Reluctant now I touch the trembling ftring,
Bereft of him, who taught me how to fing;
And these fad accents, murmur'd o'er his urn,
Betray that abfence they attempt to mourn.
Oh! muft I then (now fresh my bofom bleeds,
And Craggs in death to Addison fucceeds) |
The verfe, begun to one loft friend prolong,
And weep a fecond in th' unfinish'd sọng !

Thefe

Thefe words divine, which, on his death-bed laid, To thee, O Craggs, th' expiring fage convey'd, Great, but ill-omen'd monument of fame,

Nor he furviv'd to give, nor thou to claim.
Swift after him thy focial spirit flies,

And clofe to his, how foon! thy coffin lies.
Bleft pair! whofe union future bards fhall tell
In future tongues: each other's boast! farewel.
Farewel! whom join'd in fame, in friendship try'd,
No chance could fever, nor the grave
divide.

III.

Ah! have you feen a lily pale

When beating rains defcend?

So droop'd this flow-confuming maid,

Her life now near its end.

By Lucy warn'd, of flatt'ring fwains
Take heed, ye easy fair;
Of vengeance due to broken vows,
Ye flatt'ring fwains beware!
V.

Three times all in the dead of night,
-A bell was heard to ring;
And at her window fhrieking thrice

The raven flap'd his wing.
VI.

Full well the love-lorn maiden knew
The folemn boding found,
And thus in dying words bespake
The virgins weeping round,
VII.

"I hear a voice you cannot hear,

"That cries, I must not stay;

"I fee a hand you cannot fee, "That beckons me away.

VIII. " Of

VIII.

"Of a false fwain and broken heart, "In early youth I die;

“Am I to blame, because the bride

Is twice as rich as I?

IX.

"Ah, COLIN, give not her thy vows, "Vows due to me alone!

"Nor thou, rash girl, receive his kiss, "Nor think him all thy own!

X.

"To-morrow in the church to wed

"Impatient both prepare:

"But know, false man, and know, fond maid, "Poor Lucy will be there. XI.

"Then bear my corfe, ye comrades dear,

"The bridegroom blithe to meet;

“He in his wedding-trim so gay,

"I in my winding sheet."
XII.

She fpake, she dy'd, her corse was borne,

The bridegroom blithe to meet

He in his wedding trim fo gay,

She in her winding sheet.

XIII. What

XIII.

What then were COLIN's dreadful thoughts ;
How were thefe nuptials kept?

The bride-men flock'd round Lucy dead,
And all the village wept.
XIV.

Compaffion, fhame, remorfe, despair,
At once his bofom fwell:

The damps of death bedew'd his brow,
He groan'd, he fhook, he fell.
XV.

From the vain bride, a bride no more,
The varying crimson fled;

When, ftrétch'd beside her rival's corse,
She faw her lover dead.

XVI.

He to his Lucy's new-made grave,
Convey'd by trembling fwains,

In the fame mould, beneath one fod,
For-ever now remains.

XVII.

Oft at this place the constant hind

And plighted maid are seen;
With garlands gay, and true-love knots
They deck the facred green.

XVIII. But,