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(349) Page 337 - Poor Cleonice thy garlands tear
Pleasant and Divertive.
A SONG.
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POOR Cleonice thy Garlands tear,
From off thy Widow'd Brow ;
And bind thy loose dishevel'd Hair,
With Ewe and Cypress now :
And Since the Gods decreed his Years,
Shou'd have so short a Date ;
Let thy sad Eyes, pay Seas of Tears,
As Tribute to his Fate.
The Trees a duller Green have worn,
Since that dear Swain is gone ;
The tender Flocks their Pasture mourn,
And bleat a sadder Moan :
The Birds that did frequent these Groves,
To happy Mansions fly ;
And all that once smil'd on our Loves,
Now seem to bid me die.
VOL. iv, z

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