Their fprightly notes from every shade
Their mutual loves proclaim,
Till Winter's chilling blasts invade,
And damp th' enlivening flame.
Then all the jocund scene declines, ¡
Nor woods nor meads delight;
The drooping tribe in fecret pines,
And mourns th' unwelcome fight.
THE TOLLING BELL.
HARK! what a mournful, folemn found Roll's murm'ring thro' the cloudy air! It strikes the foul with awe profound, Affects the gay, alarms the fair.
With what a pathos does it fpeak!
Affecting deep the thoughtful mind;
The golden schemes of Folly break,
That hold in glittering fnares mankind.
'Tis Death's dread herald calls aloud,
Proclaims his conquefts thro' the skies:
The Sun retires behind the cloud,
And Nature feems to fympathize.
Reflect, ye restless fons of Care!
Your vain defigns his hand can spoil,
Make hard oppreffors lend an ear,
And wretched mifers cease their toil.
If e'er thy bofom felt another's woe,
If e'er fair Beauty's charms thy heart did prove,
If e'er the offspring of thy virtuous love
Bloom'd to thy wish, or to thy foul was dear,
This plaintive marble asks thee for a tear!
For her, alas! too early fnatch'd away,
All that was lovely Death hath made his prey.
Their fprightly notes from every shade
Their mutual loves proclaim,
Till Winter's chilling blafts invade,
And damp th' enlivening flame.
Then all the jocund scene declines, i
Nor woods nor meads delight;
The drooping tribe in fecret pines,
And mourns th' unwelcome fight.
THE TOLLING BELL.
HARK! what a mournful, folemn found
Roll's murm'ring thro' the cloudy air!
It strikes the foul with awe profound,
Affects the gay, alarms the fair.
With what a pathos does it fpeak!
Affecting deep the thoughtful mind;
The golden fchemes of Folly break,
That hold in glittering fnares mankind.
'Tis Death's dread herald calls aloud,
Proclaims his conquefts thro' the skies:
The Sun retires behind the cloud,
And Nature seems to fympathize.
Reflect, ye restless sons of Care!
Your vain designs his hand can spoil,
Make hard oppreffors lend an ear,
And wretched mifers cease their toil.
IF e'er sharp forrow from thine eyes did flow,
If e'er thy bofom felt another's woe,
If e'er fair Beauty's charms thy heart did prove,
If e'er the offspring of thy virtuous love
Bloom'd to thy wish, or to thy foul was dear,
This plaintive marble asks thee for a tear!
For her, alas! too early fnatch'd away,
All that was lovely Death hath made his prey.
No more her cheeks with crimson roses vie,
No more the diamond sparkles in her eye;
Her breath no more its balmy sweets can boast:
Alas! that breath with all its sweets is loft!
Like opening roses, drooping lilies tell;
Like those she bloom'd, and, ah! like those she
fell.
In circling wreaths let the pale ivy grow,
And diftant yews a fable fhade bestow.
Round her, ye Graces! constant vigils keep,
And guard, fair Innocence! her facred fleep:
'Till that bright morn shall wake the beauteous
clay,
To bloom and sparkle in eternal day.
STELLA AND FLAVIA.
STELLA and Flavia every hour
Do various hearts surprise :
In Stella's foul lies all her power;
And Flavia's, in her eyes.
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