onody
on a dy fad for her caprice
how ld is that bo which folly once fired,
how pale is that cheek where the rou tely glisten&039;d;
how silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired,
how dull is that ear which to ftt&039;ry listen&039;d!
if rrow and anguish their exit await,
fro friendship and dearest affection reov&039;d;
how doubly severer, aria, thy fate,
thou diedst unwept, as thou livedst unlov&039;d
loves, graces, and virtues, i call not on you;
shy, grave, and distant, ye shed not a tear:
but e, all ye offsprg of folly true,
and flowers let cull for aria&039;s ld bier
we&039;ll search through the garden for each silly flower,
we&039;ll roa thro&039; the forest for each idle weed;
but chiefly the tle, typical, shower,
for none e&039;er approach&039;d her but rued the rash deed
we&039;ll sculpture the arble, we&039;ll asure the y;
here vanity strus on her idiot lyre;
there keen dignation shall dart on his prey,
which spurng ntept shall redee fro his ire
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