The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] ... With a Copious Index. To which is prefixed Some Account of his Life. In Four Volumes |
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 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
293
ON THE DEATH OF A MUSICAL FRIEND.
A PASTORAL ELEGY.
How blest were the nymphs and the swains,
When Lycidas join'd in the song;
The chief, and the pride of the plains,
Who led all the Pleasures along!
When Lycidas join'd in the song;
The chief, and the pride of the plains,
Who led all the Pleasures along!
Of late not a valley was fair,
Not a grove gave a musical sound;
The breeze seem'd a sigh of despair,
And Pity sat mute on the ground.
Not a grove gave a musical sound;
The breeze seem'd a sigh of despair,
And Pity sat mute on the ground.
But Nature (how sudden the change!)
At the presence of Lycidas smil'd—
Health was seen through the valley to range,
And an Eden sprung up from the wild!
At the presence of Lycidas smil'd—
Health was seen through the valley to range,
And an Eden sprung up from the wild!
The throstle was heard in the shade;
The linnet enliven'd the grove,
And Echo, long banish'd, sweet maid,
Return'd with her stories of love.
The linnet enliven'd the grove,
And Echo, long banish'd, sweet maid,
Return'd with her stories of love.
Yes, each scene at his presence was glad,
That so lately with sorrow was rent;
And the voice of the mourner so sad,
Was lost in the songs of Content.
That so lately with sorrow was rent;
And the voice of the mourner so sad,
Was lost in the songs of Content.
Just able to crawl o'er the stile,
And doom'd, ah! to labour no more,
Age would crawl from his cot with a smile,
And a blessing to leave at his door.
And doom'd, ah! to labour no more,
Age would crawl from his cot with a smile,
And a blessing to leave at his door.
But the shepherd for ever is gone—
Hark! his knell, how it saddens the gale!
Joy dies, and our pastimes are flown;
Fate envies the smiles of our vale.
Hark! his knell, how it saddens the gale!
Joy dies, and our pastimes are flown;
Fate envies the smiles of our vale.
294
Now let Mirth from each hamlet retire
To the region of silence and gloom:
Sure his death must our sorrow inspire,
Since the Virtues will weep at his tomb.
To the region of silence and gloom:
Sure his death must our sorrow inspire,
Since the Virtues will weep at his tomb.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |