ye rugged cliffs, o'erhanging dreary glens,
to you i fly—ye with my soul accord.
princes, whose cumb'rous pride was all their worth,
shall venal lays their pompous exit hail,
and thou, sweet excellence! forsake our earth,
and not a muse with honest grief bewail?
we saw thee shine in youth and beauty's pride,
and virtue's light, that beams beyond the spheres;
but, like the sun eclips'd at morning tide,
thou left us darkling in a world of tears.
the parent's heart that nestled fond in thee,
that heart how sunk, a prey to grief and care;
so deckt the woodbine sweet yon aged tree;
so, from it ravish'd, leaves it bleak and bare.