Classic Poem

The shepherds return'd at the dawn,
To seek for the flow'rets that grew
On the border that skirted the lawn;
But the flowrets were shrunk from the view:
Not a primrose, or vi'let were seen,
Tho' they search'd for them carefully round;
The leaves, that at eve were so green,
Lay scatter'd, and parch'd on the ground.

The blast blew so harsh to the ear
It fill'd their sad bosoms with woe;
Each twig was impregn'd with a tear,
And it dropp'd on the herbage below:
Thick vapours obstructed the sky,
The landscape was wrapt from the sight,
No beauty attracted the eye,
No vestige of former delight.

The lark was all hush in the grove,
Nor call'd up the slumbering morn;
The turtle sat mute by her love,
And the blackbird she droop'd on the thorn:
'Twas the lark, that high floating in air,
Due poiz'd on light quivering wing,
Trill'd the matin, so wondrous rare,
'Twas rapture to hear the bird sing!

Then Pollio observed her on high,
As he sprang from the bed of repose,
And he watch'd the sweet bird in the sky
While he hastily threw on his clothes;
Alert from the mansion he flew,
Ere the cows from their pastures were led,
While the herbage was sprinkled with dew,
And the orient all glowing with red:

Then the blackbird, so blithe, on the spray,
Saluted his ear with a song;
And she'd sing to him all the long day,
If Pollio attended so long:
How oft her wild notes would he cheer —
And whistle, and stop while she sung;
And often he pluck'd the ripe-ear
To nourish the bird and her young.

Alas! what a change will be seen,
When Mira returns to the plain!
No music is heard on the green,
All mute is the pastoral strain!
Not a blackbird will swell her sweet throat,
Not a lark will her pinions extend;
But the redbreast still pours his sad note,
All by the dank grave of his friend.

Come shepherds, let's haste to retire,
Adieu! to the scenes that he loved!
His plaudits gave force to the lyre,
And sweet was the lay he approved:
All mirth from the village is fled,
The song and the pastime are o'er;
But, the dirge shall be sung for the dead —
Till friendship and life be no more .