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Ye loveless bards.! intent with artful pains
To form a figh, or to contrive a tear !

Forgo your Pindus, and on plains

Survey CAMILLA's charms, and grow sincere.

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Tho' weeping virgins haunt his favour'd urn,
Renew their chaplets, and repeat their fighs;

Tho’, near his tomb, Sabaean odours burn,
The loit’ring fragrance will it reach the skies :

No, shou’d his DELIA votive wreaths prepare,
DELIA might place the votive wreaths in vain:
Yet the dear hope of DELIA's future care
Once crown'd his pleasures, and dispell'd his pain.
Yes

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To mark the day, when, thro’ the bulky tome,
Around your name the varying style refines 2

And readers call their lost attention home,
Led by that index where true genius shines *

Ah let not BRITons doubt their social aim,
Whose ardent bosoms catch this ancient fire l
old interest melts before the vivid flame,
And patriot ardours, but with life, expire

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When humbler Alcon leaves his drooping friends,
Pageant nor plume distinguish Alcon's bier;

The faithful muse with votive song attends,
And blots the mournful numbers with a tear.

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He little knew to ward the secret wound ;
He little knew that mortals cou’d ensnare;

Virtue he knew; the noblest joy he found,
To fing her glories, and to paint her fair!

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