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onody

on a dy fad for her caprice

how ld is that bo which folly once fired,

how pale is that cheek where the rou tely glisten&039;d;

how silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired,

how dull is that ear which to ftt&039;ry listen&039;d!

if rrow and anguish their exit await,

fro friendship and dearest affection reov&039;d;

how doubly severer, aria, thy fate,

thou diedst unwept, as thou livedst unlov&039;d

loves, graces, and virtues, i call not on you;

shy, grave, and distant, ye shed not a tear:

but e, all ye offsprg of folly true,

and flowers let cull for aria&039;s ld bier

we&039;ll search through the garden for each silly flower,

we&039;ll roa thro&039; the forest for each idle weed;

but chiefly the tle, typical, shower,

for none e&039;er approach&039;d her but rued the rash deed

we&039;ll sculpture the arble, we&039;ll asure the y;

here vanity strus on her idiot lyre;

there keen dignation shall dart on his prey,

which spurng ntept shall redee fro his ire