Poems (Frances Elizabeth Browne)/To the memory of William Shenstone
TO THE MEMORY OF WILLIAM SHENSTONE.A PASTORAL POEM.
Ye shepherds, attend to my strain, While I sing of your Corydon's praise;He was truly the pride of the plain,— O, assist me a tribute to raise!
A tribute to him I admire, For his tenderness, talents, and worth;—Ah, shepherds! how vain the desire We shall e'er see his equal on earth!
And, Corydon, was there a heart Which, unmelted, could hear thee complain?A nymph who could bid thee depart, Nor, relenting, recall thee again?
To the banks, and the grottos, and groves, Which for her with such taste you adorned,By the fountains and murmuring Doves, Could she stray, and your love unreturned?
Ah, Phillis! our favorite swain 'T was cruel to use thus unkind,And to wound with contempt and disdain His feeling and sensitive mind.
For thee not a shepherd shall mourn, Not a dirge shall melodiously flow;You in turn shall be treated with scorn, Since you caused our dear Corydon woe!
But, Phillis, though justly your due, In vain our resentment is shown;For our favorite shepherd was true, And you live in a strain of his own.
And since our own Corydon thus Has made Phillis his favorite theme, Her name shall be precious to us, While her virtues we love and esteem.
Ah, shepherds! our Corydon's flute No longer is heard on the plain;The voice which once charmed us is mute,— Its sweet tones will ne'er soothe us again.
His picturesque sylvan retreat May the loss of its master deplore,And echo his name may repeat, For his fostering care is no more!
If genius merits a sigh, If goodness is worthy a tear,Mild charity's pitying eye, And justice to self still severe,—
O, join us our shepherd to mourn! For these were in him all combined;Breathe a sigh, drop a tear, o'er his urn, For his was a masterly mind.