But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies! Such is the fate of artlefs Maid, Sweet flow'ret of the rural fhade! And guilelefs trust, Till fhe, like thee, all foil'd, is laid Low i' the duft. Such is the fate of fimple Bard, On Life's rough ocean luckless starr'd! Unfkilful he to note the card Of prudent Lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er! Such fate to fuffering worth is giv'n, Who long with wants and woes has ftriv'n, By human pride or cunning driv'n To Mif'ry's brink, Till wrench'd of ev'ry stay but HEAV'N, He, ruin'd, fink! Ev'n thou who mourn'ft the Daisy's fate, That fate is thine -no diftant date; Stern Ruin's plough-fbare drives, elate, Full on thy bloom, Till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight, Shall be thy doom! TO RUIN. A I. LL hail! inexorable lord! At whose destruction-breathing word, The mightiest empires fall! Thy cruel, woe-delighted train, The minifters of Grief and Pain, A fullen welcome, all! I fee each aimed dart; For one has cut my dearest tye, And quivers in my heart. Tho' thick'ning, and black'ning, Round my devoted head. II. And thou grim Pow'r, by Life abhorr'd, While Life a pleasure can afford, To close this scene of care! My weary heart it's throbbings cease, Cold-mould'ring in the clay? No fear more, no tear more, |