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An Imitation of a Poem in Dryden's Collections, entitled Anacreontick.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

An Imitation of a Poem in Dryden's Collections, entitled Anacreontick.

Beneath a thick and silent Shade,
That seem'd for sweet Devotion made,
In holy Rapture stretch'd along,
(Urania by to aid my Song)
I tun'd my Voice, and touch'd the Lyre,
While heav'nly Themes the Muse inspire:
I sung the Beauties of the Grove,
I sung th' Almighty Pow'r above.
But, striving more my Notes to raise,
And to my Subject suit my Lays;

127

A String, o'er strain'd, in Pieces flew,
And sudden from its Place withdrew.
Under my Hand the Chord I found,
But lost, alas! the sprightly Sound.
So, pierc'd by Death's relentless Dart
We view the lifeless, earthly Part.
The Soul invisible takes wing,
As Sound that leaves the breaking String.