 | A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes |  |
243
ODE on the Death of Matzel, a favourite Bull-finch, address'd to Mr. St---pe, to whom the Author had given the Reversion of it when he left Dresden.
By the Same.
I
Try not my St---pe, 'tis in vainTo stop your tears, to hide your pain,
Or check your honest rage;
Give sorrow and revenge their scope,
My present joy, your future hope,
Lies murder'd in his cage.
II
Matzel's no more, ye graces, loves,Ye linnets, nightingales and doves,
Attend th'untimely bier;
Let ev'ry sorrow be exprest,
Beat with your wings each mournful breast,
And drop the nat'ral tear.
III
In height of song, in beauty's pride,By fell Grimalkin's claws he died—
But vengeance shall have way;
On pains and tortures I'll refine;
Yet, Matzel, that one death of thine,
His nine will ill repay.
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IV
For thee, my bird, the sacred Nine,Who lov'd thy tuneful notes, shall join
In thy funereal verse:
My painful task shall be to write
Th'eternal dirge which they indite,
And hang it on thy hearse.
V
In vain I lov'd, in vain I mournMy bird, who never to return
Is fled to happier shades,
Where Lesbia shall for him prepare
The place most charming, and most fair
Of all th'Elysian glades.
VI
There shall thy notes in cypress groveSooth wretched ghosts that died for love;
There shall thy plaintive strain
Lull impious Phædra's endless grief,
To Procris yield some short relief,
And soften Dido's pain.
VII
'Till Proserpine by chance shall hearThy notes, and make thee all her care,
And love thee with my love;
While each attendant's soul shall praise
The matchless Matzel's tuneful lays,
And all his songs approve.
| A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes | |