This page has been validated.
MANCHESTER, &c.
35
Conclusion.
The passing breeze, sweeping the dewy lawn,
Echoes her sighs for breathless Corydon.
The living lustre of her eyes are flown,
"And melancholy marks her for her own."
Fantastic wreathes twine her fair form around,
Float on the wind, or trace the dewy ground.
The drooping willow round her wan form creeps:
Wove in her braided hair, the gloomy cypress weeps.
Ah, what avails! nor youth, nor beauty's bloom,
Nor weeping friends shall save her from the tomb.
Grant me, kind heaven, whilst here below I stay,
Reason's free use to guide my devious way;
Then, proud of strength, the conscious mind shall rise,
Mount in the storm, and adverse fate despise.
Echoes her sighs for breathless Corydon.
The living lustre of her eyes are flown,
"And melancholy marks her for her own."
Fantastic wreathes twine her fair form around,
Float on the wind, or trace the dewy ground.
The drooping willow round her wan form creeps:
Wove in her braided hair, the gloomy cypress weeps.
Ah, what avails! nor youth, nor beauty's bloom,
Nor weeping friends shall save her from the tomb.
Grant me, kind heaven, whilst here below I stay,
Reason's free use to guide my devious way;
Then, proud of strength, the conscious mind shall rise,
Mount in the storm, and adverse fate despise.
FINIS.
R. & W. DEAN, Printers, Manchester.
