Of fickness watch thee, and thy languid head Nor did the crown your mutual flame With pledges dear, and with a father's tender name. XVI. O belt of wives! O dearer far to me Were yielded to my arms, How can my foul endure the lofs of thee? How in the world, to me a defart Abandon'd, and alone, grown, Without my fweet companion can I live? The dear reward of every virtuous toil, What pleasures now can pall'd Ambition give? Ev'n the delightful fenfe of well-earn'd praife, Unfhar'd by thee, no more my lifeless thoughts could raife. XVII. For my diftracted mind What fuccour can I find? Your kind affiftance lend To bear the weight of this oppreffive woe. My dear departed love, so much was thine, In every other grief, : Are now with your idea fadden'd all My tortur'd mem'ry wounds, and speaks of Lucy dead. Olofs beyond repair! O wretched Father left alone Το weep their dire misfortune, and thy own! From folly, and from vice, their helpless age to save? VII. Where were ye, Mufes, when relentless Fate To guard her bofom from the mortal blow? Whate'er your ancient fages taught, Your ancient bards fublimely thought, And bade her raptur'd breast with all your fpirit glow? VIII. Nor then did Pindus' or Castalia's plain, Befet with offers dank, *The Mincio runs by Mantua, the birth-place of Virgil. Nor where Clitumnus rolls his gentle ftream, Nor yet where Meles, or || Iliffus firay, That, of your guardian care bereft, To dire difeafe and death your darling fhould be left. IX. Now what avails it that in early bloom, Are all her fex's joys, With you fhe fearch'd the wit of Greece and Rome? And all that in her latter days To emulate her ancient praife Italia's happy genius could produce; Or what the gallic fire Bright fparkling could inspire; By all the Graces temper'd and refin`d; Moft favour'd with your fmile The pow'rs of reafon and of fancy join'd *The Clitumnus is a river of Umbria, the refidence of Propertius. The Anio runs through Tibur or Tivoli, where Horace had a villa. The Meles is a river of Ionia, from whence Homer, fuppofed to be born' on its banks, is called Melifigenes. The Iliffus is a river at Athens. From every branch the balmy flow'rets rise, The teader blighted plant fhrinks up his leaves, and dies. XIV. Arife O Petrarch, from th' Elysian bow'rs, Was fpread the fame of thy difastrous love; Rough mountain oaks, and defart rocks, to pity move. XV. What were, alas! thy woes compar'd to mine? Of Hymen never gave her hand; In thy domeftic care She never bore a share, Nor with endearing art, Would heal thy wounded heart Of every fecret grief that fefter'd there: Of fickness watch thee, and thy languid head Nor did the crown your mutual flame With pledges dear, and with a father's tender name. XVI. O belt of wives! O dearer far to me Were yielded to my arms, How can my foul endure the lofs of thee? Without my fweet companion can I live? The dear reward of every virtuous toil, What pleasures now can pall'd Ambition give? Ev'n the delightful fenfe of well-earn'd praife, Unfhar'd by thee, no more my lifeless thoughts could raife. XVII. For my diftracted mind What fuccour can I find? On whom for confolation fhall I call? Support me every friend, Your kind affiftance lend To bear the weight of this oppreffive woe. My dear departed love, fo much was thine, In every other grief, Are now with your idea fadden'd all : My tortur'd mem'ry wounds, and fpeaks of Lucy dead. |