LX.

Fain would I sing (much yet unsung remains)

What sweet delirium o'er his bosom stole,
When the great Shepherd of the Mantuan plains*
His deep majestic melody 'gan roll:

Fain would I sing, what transport storm'd his soul,
How the red current throb'd his veins along,
When, like Pelides, bold beyond controul,

Without art graceful, without effort strong,

Homer raised high to heaven the loud, th' impetuous song.

LXI.

And how his lyre, though rude her first essays,
Now skill'd to sooth, to triumph, to complain,
Warbling at will through each harmonious maze,
Was taught to modulate the artful strain,
I fain would sing....but ah! I strive in vain.
Sighs from a breaking heart my voice confound,
With trembling step, to join yon weeping train,
I haste, where gleams funereal glare around,

And, mix'd with shrieks of wo, the knells of death resound.

*Virgil.

LXII.

Adieu, ye lays, that Fancy's flowers adorn,
The soft amusement of the vacant mind!
He sleeps in dust, and all the Muses mourn,
He, whom each virtue fired, each glance refined,
Friend, teacher, pattern, darling of mankind!*
He sleeps in dust. Ah, how should I pursue
My theme! To heart-consuming grief resign'd
Here on his recent grave I fix my view,

And pour my bitter tears. Ye flowery lays, adieu!

LXIII.

Art thou, my GREGORY, for ever fled?

And am I left to unavailing wo?

When fortune's storms assail this weary head,
Where cares long since have shed untimely snow,
Ah, now for comfort whither shall I go?

No more thy soothing voice my anguish chears:
Thy placid eyes with smiles no longer glow,

My hopes to cherish, and allay my fears.

'Tis meet that I should mourn: flow forth afresh my tears.

This excellent person died suddenly, on the 10th of February, 1773. The conclusion of the poem was written a few days after.

POEMS

ON

SEVERAL OCCASIONS.

POEMS

ON

SEVERAL OCCASIONS.

RETIREMENT.

1758.

WHEN in the crimson cloud of Even

The lingering light decays,

And Hesper on the front of heaven

His glittering gem displays;

Deep in the silent vale, unseen,

Beside a lulling stream,

A pensive Youth, of placid mien.
Indulged this tender theme.

Ye cliffs in hoary grandeur piled
High o'er the glimmering dale;

Ye woods, along whose windings wild

Murmurs the solemn gale;

F