Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Mourn, Shepherds! mourn the fair Eliza dead,
And all that's sweet and lovely with her fled:
Ye Streams! ye Banks! ye Plains their Sighs restore,
And join to mourn Eliza now no more.

For her the Heav'ns were fill'd with dire Presage,
Of battling Winds, and dreadful Thunder's Rage:
Descending Rills increas'd the troubled Floods,
And the Serene grew black with bellying Clouds;
From their riv'n Sides the wavy Lightning broke,
Blaz'd all around, nor spar'd the sacred Oak.
Impetuous Rains and rising Torrents spoil
The delug'd Fields, and mock the Reapers Toil:
The Hinds, with wild Affrights, run trembling home,
Thro' the redoubled Horrors of the Gloom.
How oft the tim'rous Nymphs with female Cries
Invok'd the Pow'rs? How oft with streaming Eyes?
But what had they for Innocence to fear,
Or think the frowning Heav'ns should menace her?
And now with unavailing Sighs they mourn,
And watch the lov'd Eliza's sacred Urn:
Weeping they sit upon the faded Moss,
And tell the sad Presages of their Loss.
Ye Streams! ye Banks! ye Plains! their Sighs restore;
And join to mourn Eliza now no more.

Unpitying Fate! they cry, cou'd none be found
But her, so lovely, so belov'd, to wound?
In whom all Sweetnesses at once combin'd,
To grace her Person, and adorn her Mind.
Must we no more survey her heav'nly Face?
No more with mixt Delight and Wonder gaze?
Must we no more the setting Suns prolong,
Charm'd with her artful Notes and tuneful Song?

No more her beauteous Form shall bless our Sight;
Clos'd are those Eyes, and sleep in endless Night:
Those Hands are motionless, that Voice is mute;
And Silence best does with our Sorrow suit.
Cease then, ye Nymphs! your loud Complaints, and show
The dumb majestic Pomp of speechless Woe!
Let stealing Sighs alone her Fate deplore:
Ye Streams! ye Banks! ye Plains! our Sighs restore;
And join to mourn Eliza now no more.

See! all around contagious Sorrow spreads;
The drooping Flow'rs decline upon their Beds:
See! how the Rose, with wasting Grief decay'd,
Drops all her tender Leaves, and hastes to fade;
See! how the Lilies shed their Virgin Bloom,
And only live to dress Eliza's Tomb.
Yet those by Winter pinch'd, or charg'd with Rain,
Renew their Beings, and revive again:
Why then must Life, frail Nature's noblest Boast,
For once expiring be for ever lost?
For her, the Woods afford a trembling Sound;
For her, sad Eccho answers from the Ground:
For her, the Wind in hollow Accents roars;
For her, the Currents murmur on their Shores.
The Streams, the Banks, the Plains, our Sighs restore;
And join to mourn Eliza now no more.

Sad Philomel, forgetful of her Wrong,
For lost Eliza tunes her mournful Song:

For her the Linnet and the sighing Dove
With soft complaining fill the vocal Grove.
For chearful Notes, a plaintive Air they sing;
And droop the Head, and hang the heavy Wing:
All wild they range amid the lonely Wood;
Thoughtless of Love; and careless of their Food.
Ye Groves! ye Bow'rs! ye Grots! their Sighs restore;
And join to mourn Eliza now no more.

See! how the Shepherds, struck with deep Despair,
Stand stupid, and neglect their fleecy Care:
To her no more they now shall sing and play,
But sigh, and throw their broken Reeds away.
The pining Flocks attend their Master's Moan,
And with soft bleating answer Groan for Groan:
Pensive they stray, and scorn the full Repast;
Nor thirsty, deign the crystal Stream to taste.
Ye Hills! ye Dales! ye Lawns! the Sighs restore;
And join to mourn Eliza now no more.

Mourn, all ye healing Springs! wheree'er you glide:
Mourn, all ye Nymphs! who o'er these Springs preside:
And ye, delightful Groves! which us'd to shade
The silver Fountain, wither now, and fade.
No more the Fair your flow'ry Side shall press;
No more the Fair shall haunt your sweet Recess:
No more amid the beauteous Train advance,
And, all excelling, lead the graceful Dance.

No longer here shall Joy and Pleasure dwell,
But streaming Tears the troubled Currents swell:
The Springs, the Meads, the Shades, our Sighs restore;
And join to mourn Eliza now no more.

Let all the Sons of Music join, to show
The mingled Pow'rs of Harmony and Woe:
Such as of old when Thracian Orpheus try'd
The Fates relented, and restor'd the Bride.
Begin! your Art may speak your deep Despair;
But never, never can redeem the Fair.
Let harsh, discordant Strings a Sense impart
Of sharpest Grief, and thrill the wounded Heart:
In distant Sounds the dying Notes prolong;
And with sad Pauses interrupt the Song,
Ye Streams! ye Banks! ye Plains! the Sounds restore;
And join to mourn Eliza now no more.

Ye hateful Tow'rs! where lov'd Eliza fell;
Who all your savage Cruelties can tell?
How oft have you conceal'd the horrid Scene
Of Death and Murther, in your guilty Den?
Did we to you, to you entrust the Fair?
Thus do you guard, and thus restore your Care?
Relentless you your Charge will ever keep,
Where rival Queens and beauteous Dudley sleep.
There rest alike the Guilty and the Just,
While only Virtue triumphs in the Dust.

This Crime with late, repentant Grief atone;
Let living Sorrow touch the senseless Stone:
Thou , Julian Mole! our hollow Sighs restore.
And join to mourn Eliza now no more.

The Muse alone this Privilege can claim,
Among the Stars to fix a deathless Name:
She rais'd of old to those divine Abodes
Whom Arts or Virtues equal'd with the Gods.
She can afar descry, with piercing Eyes,
Eliza, gliding thro' the open Skies:
Point out the radiant Stream that gilds her Way;
And lambent Glories which around her play.
And you, to whom your bounteous Stars impart
The Love of sacred Lays and Phœbus' Art!
With rev'rend Awe attend; and listen well
To what the Priestess of the Muse shall tell.
When on that Day, most gladsom of the Year,
On which Gæcilia marks the Calendar,
With emulating Skill the Saint you grace,
Let lov'd Eliza hold the second Place:
So shall her Fame Life's hasty Date prolong,
In spight of Death's fell Rage, and Time's injurious Wrong,
And ever flourish, ever live, in never-dying Song.

Mrs. B. was buried near Henry VIIIth; Wives, and, as is supposed near Lady Jane Grey.

The white Tower.