Such fate to suffering worth is given, Who long with wants and woes has striven, By human pride or cunning driven 45 To misery’s brink, Till, wrenched of every stay but Heaven, He, ruined, sink! Even thou who mourn’st the Daisy’s fate, That fate is thine--no distant date; 50 Stern Ruin’s ploughshare drives, elate, Full on thy bloom, Till crushed beneath the furrow’s weight, Shall be thy doom. _Robert Burns._ CXLIX _ON THE DEATH OF RICHARD WEST._ In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, And reddening Phœbus lifts his golden fire, The birds in vain their amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire. These ears, alas! for other notes repine, 5 A different object do these eyes require; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine, And in my breast the imperfect joys expire; Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; 10 The fields to all their wonted tribute bear, To warm their little loves the birds complain; I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear, And weep the more, because I weep in vain. _Thomas Gray._ CL _TO THE HONOURABLE MISS CARTERET._ Bloom of beauty, early flower Of the blissful bridal bower, Thou, thy parents’ pride and care, Fairest offspring of the fair, Lovely pledge of mutual love, 5 Angel seeming from above, Was it not thou day by day Dost thy very sex betray, Female more and more appear, Female, more than angel dear, 10 How to speak thy face and mien, (Soon too dangerous to be seen) How shall I, or shall the Muse, Language of resemblance choose, Language like thy mien and face, 15 Full of sweetness, full of grace? By the next returning spring, When again the linnets sing, When again the lambkins play, Pretty sportlings full of May, 20 When the meadows next are seen, Sweet enamel, white and green, And the year in fresh attire Welcomes every gay desire, Blooming on shalt thou appear 25 More inviting than the year, Fairer sight than orchard shows, Which beside a river blows: Yet another spring I see, And a brighter bloom in thee: 30 And another round of time, Circling, still improves thy prime: And beneath the vernal skies Yet a verdure more shall rise, Ere thy beauties, kindling slow, 35 In each finished feature glow, Ere in smiles and in disdain