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167

The Same Ode Imitated.

[Tho' Tempests long may toss the Sea]

To Clemené.
By George Jeffreys, Esq;

1

Tho' Tempests long may toss the Sea,
And Norway, chill'd by Winter, mourn;
Yet Norway's Snow will melt away,
When Zephyr's genial Gales return:
168

When Birds and Flowers the sullen Year restore,
It sighs in Winds, and weeps in Rain no more.

2

But You, eternal Mourner, You,
Amyntor, gone, where all must go,
With ever-streaming Eyes pursue,
Dwell on his Grave, and doat on Woe;
Amyntor is by Day the darling Theme,
And dear Amyntor still the nightly Dream.

3

Yet Mordaunt's Eyes are dry'd at last,
Tho' in one fleeting Year he mourn'd
His Angel Consort, bright and chaste,
With two brave Sons, to Dust return'd:
His fam'd Valencia's Doom in His we trace,
So signal was the Shock, so short the Space!

4

Of matchless Blandford's early Fate,
The Parents now no more complain;
The Sisters, sunk beneath the Weight
Of pious Sorrow, rise again,
Bright as the Moon, reflected by the Tide,
Or You, Clemené, ere your Brother died.
169

5

Then mourn no longer, heavenly Maid,
Amyntor snatch'd in Nature's Prime:
Must Beauty too, by Grief decay'd,
Be lost, like Him, before the Time?
Think on those Eyes, and then their Tears refrain;
Or must Philander always sue in vain?
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