VIII. "NYMPHS! whose fair eyes with vivid lustres glow For human weal, and melt at human woe; Late as YOU floated on your silver shells, 300 Sorrowing and slow by DERWENT'S willowy dells; Where by tall groves his foamy flood he steers Through ponderous arches o'er impetuous wears, By DERBY'S shadowy towers reflective sweeps, And gothic grandeur chills his dusky deeps; 305 You pearl'd with Pity's drops his velvet sides, Sigh'd in his gales, and murmur'd in his tides, Waved o'er his fringed brink a deeper gloom, And bow'd his alders o'er MILCENA'S tomb. [_O'er Milcena's tomb_. l. 308. In memory of Mrs. French, a lady who to many other elegant accomplishments added a proficiency in botany and natural history.] "Oft with sweet voice She led her infant-train, 310 Printing with graceful step his spangled plain, Explored his twinkling swarms, that swim or fly, And mark'd his florets with botanic eye.-- "Sweet bud of Spring! how frail thy transient bloom, "Fine film," she cried, "of Nature's fairest loom! 315 "Soon Beauty fades upon its damask throne!"-- --Unconscious of the worm, that mined her own!-- --Pale are those lips, where soft caresses hung, Wan the warm cheek, and mute the tender tongue, Cold rests that feeling heart on Derwent's shore, 320 And those love-lighted eye-balls roll no more! --HERE her sad Consort, stealing through the gloom Of Hangs in mute anguish o'er the scutcheon'd hearse, Or graves with trembling style the votive verse. 325 "Sexton! oh, lay beneath this sacred shrine, When Time's cold hand shall close my aching eyes, Oh, gently lay this wearied earth of mine, Where wrap'd in night my loved MILCENA lies. "So shall with purer joy my spirit move, 330 When the last trumpet thrills the caves of Death, Catch the first whispers of my waking love, And drink with holy kiss her kindling breath. "The spotless Fair, with blush ethereal warm, Shall hail with sweeter smile returning day, 335 Rise from her marble bed a brighter form, And win on buoyant step her airy way. "Shall bend approved, where beckoning hosts invite, On clouds of silver her adoring knee, Approach with Seraphim the throne of light, 340 --And BEAUTY plead with angel-tongue for Me!"