 | The poems (1969) |  |
5 Song.
The Sentiments Borrowed from Shakespeare
404
Young Damon of the vale is dead,
Ye lowland hamlets moan:
A dewy turf lies o'er his head,
And at his feet a stone.
Ye lowland hamlets moan:
A dewy turf lies o'er his head,
And at his feet a stone.
His shroud, which death's cold damps destroy,
Of snow-white threads was made:
All mourned to see so sweet a boy
In earth for ever laid.
Of snow-white threads was made:
All mourned to see so sweet a boy
In earth for ever laid.
Pale pansies o'er his corpse were placed,
Which, plucked before their time,
Bestrewed the boy, like him to waste
And wither in their prime.
Which, plucked before their time,
405
And wither in their prime.
But will he ne'er return, whose tongue
Could tune the rural lay?
Ah, no! his bell of peace is rung,
His lips are cold as clay.
Could tune the rural lay?
Ah, no! his bell of peace is rung,
His lips are cold as clay.
They bore him out at twilight hour,
The youth who loved so well:
Ah, me! how many a true-love shower
Of kind remembrance fell!
The youth who loved so well:
Ah, me! how many a true-love shower
Of kind remembrance fell!
Each maid was woe—but Lucy chief,
Her grief o'er all was tried;
Within his grave she dropped in grief,
And o'er her loved-one died.
Her grief o'er all was tried;
Within his grave she dropped in grief,
And o'er her loved-one died.
| The poems (1969) | |