A Collection of Original Poems | ||
On the Same.
Occasioned by the Death of Mr. Pope, Anno 1744.
Round Ball**ll**ie's urn, while streaming eyes o'erflow,With social grief and tributary woe;
From melting sounds some comfort we receive;
A transient joy, which reason cannot give;
The Muse suspends the anguish we endure,
And sooths the heart-felt wound she cannot cure:
But, ah! in vain we ask the Muse's aid,
Since Harmony itself—with Pope is fled.
A Collection of Original Poems | ||