Yet feem'd her lip's etherial charm the fame DAMON, fhe faid, mine hour allotted flies; Oh! do not wafte it with a fruitless tear! Tho' griev❜d to fee thy SILVIA's pale disguise, Sufpend thy forrow, and attentive hear. So may thy mufe with virtuous fame be bleft! Faft by the reliques of fome happier maid! Thou know'ft, how ling'ring on a distant shore No friend was near to raife my drooping head; i'ho' now debarr'd of each domeftic tear; Unknown, forgot, I meet the fatal blow; There many a friend fhall grace my woeful bier, And many a figh fhall rife, and tear shall flow. I spoke, I fpoke, nor fate forbore his trembling spoil; And foon they bore me to my native soil, my fond parents dear remains were laid. 'Twas then the youths, from ev'ry plain and grove, Adorn'd with mournful verfe thy SILVIA's bier; 'Twas then the nymphs their votive garlands wove, And ftrew'd the fragrance of the youthful year. But why alas! the tender scene display? Cou'd DAMON's foot the pious path decline? Ah no! 'twas DAMON first attun'd his lay, And fure no fonnet was fo dear as thine. Thus was I bofom'd in the peaceful grave; My placid ghoft no longer wept its doom; When favage robbers every fanction brave, And with outrageous guilt defraud the tomb!: Shall my poor carfe, from hoftile realms convey'd, Or, in my kindred's dear embraces laid, Say, wou'd thy breast no death-like torture feel, ? པས If PAAN's fons these horrid rites require, And let their breathless corse avail mankind. Yet hard it seems, when guilt's lafst fine is paid, Where is the faith of ancient pagans fled? Arife, dear youth! ev'n now the danger calls; : ELEGY ELE GY XXIIL Reflections fuggefted by his fituation. ORN near the scene for*KENELM's fate renown'd BORN I take my plaintive reed, and range the grove, And raise my lay, and bid the rocks refound The favage force of empire, and of love. Fast by the center of yon' various wild, Where fpreading oaks embow'r a Gothic fane; KENDRIDA's arts a brother's youth beguil'd; There nature urg'd her tendereft pleas in vain. Soft o'er his birth, and o'er his infant hours, But foon the bofom's pleafing calm is flown; KENELM in the Saxon heptarchy was heir to the kingdom of MERCIA; but being very young at his father's death, was, by the artifices, of his fifter and her lover, depriv'd of his crown and life together. How kind were fortune, ah! how just were fate, See, garnish'd for the chace, the fraudful maid But now, nor fhaggy hill, nor pathless plain, Where the rough bowman urg'd his headlong fteed, Immortal bards, a polish'd race, retire; And where hoarse scream'd the repent horn, fucceed The melting graces of no vulgar lyre. See THOMSON, loit'ring near fome limpid well, Or, ftudious of revolving feafons, tell, Şee ******* from civic garlands fly, Here |