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 |
 | I. |
 | II. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
|
|
|
| III. |
| IV. |
 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
17
CORINNA'S EPITAPH.
HERE sleeps what was innocence once, but its snows
Were sullied and trod with disdain;
Here lies what was beauty, but pluck'd was its rose,
And flung like a weed to the plain.
Were sullied and trod with disdain;
Here lies what was beauty, but pluck'd was its rose,
And flung like a weed to the plain.
O pilgrim, look down on her grave with a sigh,
Who fell the sad victim of art;
Ev'n Cruelty's self must bid her hard eye
A pearl of compassion impart.
Who fell the sad victim of art;
Ev'n Cruelty's self must bid her hard eye
A pearl of compassion impart.
Ah! think not, ye prudes, that a sigh, or a tear,
Can offend of all Nature the God;
Lo! Virtue already has mourn'd at her bier,
And the lily will bloom on her sod.
Can offend of all Nature the God;
Lo! Virtue already has mourn'd at her bier,
And the lily will bloom on her sod.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |