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On the DEATH of
Μ Υ Ν Τ
A PASTORAL ELE GY.
WAS on a joyless and a gloomy morn,
the thorn ;
his hands, distracted with his care, And sent his voice before him from afar. Return, he cry'd, return, unhappy swain, The spungy clouds are fill’d with gathering rain: The promise of the day not only cross’d, But e'en the spring, the spring itself is loft. Amyntas---oh !---he could not speak the rest,
Nor needed, for presaging Damon guess’d.
envy of the gods he knew :
grace ; Just such, Amyntas, was thy promis'd race. What charms adorn'd thy youth, where nature
smil'd, And more than man was giv’n us in a child ! His infancy was ripe : a foul sublime In years
so tender that prevented time : Heaven gave him all atonce; then snatch'daway, Ere mortals all his beauties could survey: Just like the flower that buds and withersin a day.
MEN ALCA S.
D A MO N.
she exercise her fruitful pains !
Equal she may, but farther none can go ;
M E N A L CA S.
; Hear'st thou not hymns and songs divinely loud ? There mounts Amyntas ; the young cherubs play About their godlike mate, and sing him on his way. He cleaves the liquid air, behold he flies, And
every moment gains upon the skies. The new come guest admires th' ætherial state, The saphir portal, and the golden gate ; And now admitted in the shining throng, He shows the passport which he brought along. His passport is his innocence and grace, Well known to all the vatives of the place. Now fing, ye joyful angels, and admire Your brother's voice that comes to mend your
while endless tears our eyes bestow; For like Amyntas none is left below.
On the DEATH of
A very young Gentleman.
E who could view the book of destiny,
And read whatever there was writ of thee, O charming youth, in the first op'ning page, So many graces in so green an age, Such wit, such modesty, such strength of mind, A soul at once so manly, and so kind; Would wonder, when he turn'd the volume o'er, And after some few leaves should find no more, Nought but a blank remain, a dead void space, A step of life that promis’d such a race. We must not, dare not think, that heaven began A child, and could not finish him a man; Reflecting what a mighty store was laid Of rich materials, and a model made : The cost already furnish’d; so bestow'd, As more was never to one foul allow'd': Yet after this profusion spent in vain, Nothing but mould'ring alhes to remain, I guess not, left I split upon the shelf, Yet durft I guess, heaven kept it for himself;