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In glowing hues to bid the landscape live,
Or to the figure animation give;
Oh! then, my pencil's tribute justly due,
Sweet Gratitude shall consecrate to you.
SONNET.
Ah! now farewell, thou sweet and gentle maid,
Beside thy simple grave we oft shall mourn;
And plant a willow where thy form is laid,
And then with flowers the weeping tree adorn.
Oft shall we sing thy melancholy tale,
When all the shades of evening steal around;
And oft assemble by the moonlight pale,
To linger near the consecrated ground.
And oh! if spirits e'er on earth descend,
To hover o'er some chosen hallow'd spot;
Around thy tomb shall airy bands attend,
And humble villagers shall weep thy lot.
Ah! fair departed maid, thy placid mind
Was calm in sorrow, and to Heaven resign'd.
