 | Original Poems |  |
III.
Mourn, O You Muses! mourn, You Virgin Train!
Florinda's gone, the Pride of all the Plain:
Florinda, lovely as the new-born Spring
Affording Life and Joy to every Thing,
With all the Charms of Youth and Beauty gay,
Is now become a Lifeless Lump of Clay.
Florinda's gone, the Pride of all the Plain:
Florinda, lovely as the new-born Spring
Affording Life and Joy to every Thing,
With all the Charms of Youth and Beauty gay,
Is now become a Lifeless Lump of Clay.
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Where are those Eyes which set the Plains on fire?
That Bloom which warm'd the Aged with Desire?
That Angel-Sweetness? that Carnation-Glow?
Those Lips of Rubies? and those Breasts of Snow?
Breathless! and pale! and cold! alas! she lies!
Jove's pointed Light'ning has forsook her Eyes,
The Bloom her Cheeks: No longer fair and young:
Fled are her Charms, and silent is her Tongue!
That Bloom which warm'd the Aged with Desire?
That Angel-Sweetness? that Carnation-Glow?
Those Lips of Rubies? and those Breasts of Snow?
Breathless! and pale! and cold! alas! she lies!
Jove's pointed Light'ning has forsook her Eyes,
The Bloom her Cheeks: No longer fair and young:
Fled are her Charms, and silent is her Tongue!
So, some choice Flow'r, the Artist's darling Care,
Displays Its Beauties, and perfumes the Air,
Salutes the rising Sun, and proudly gay,
Folds up its Leaves but with the closing Day,
Nipt by the Eastern Wind, untimely fades,
Its Sweets forsake it, and its Glory sheds.
Displays Its Beauties, and perfumes the Air,
Salutes the rising Sun, and proudly gay,
Folds up its Leaves but with the closing Day,
Nipt by the Eastern Wind, untimely fades,
Its Sweets forsake it, and its Glory sheds.
| Original Poems | |