University of Virginia Library


61

Complaint on the Death of Sylvia, to the River.

Cleer Brook! which by thy self art chac'd,
And from thy self dost fly as fast,
Stay here a little; and in Brief
Hear the sad Story of my Grief:
Then, hasting to the Sea, declare
Her Waves not half so bitter are.
Tell her how Sylvia (she who late
Was the sole Regent of my Fate)
Hath yeelded up her sweetest Breath,
In the best Time of Life, to Death:
Who proud of such a Victory,
At once triumphs o'r Love, and Me.
But more (Alas!) I cannot speak;
Sighs to my sadder Accents break.
Farewell kind Floud! now take thy Way,
And like my Thoughts, still restless, stray:
If we retarded have thy Course,
Hold! with these Tears thy speed inforce.