elegy on “stel”
the following poem is the work of some hapless son of the muses who deserved a better fate. there is a great deal of “the voice of a” in his solitary, mournful notes; and had the ses been clothed ione's nguage, they would have been no discredit even to that elegant poet.—r.b.
strait is the spot and green the sod
from whence my sorrows flow;
and soundly sleeps the ever dear
inhabitant below.
pardon my transpentle shade,
while o'er the turf i bow;
thy earthy house is circumscrib'd,
and solitary now.
not one poor stoo tell thy name,
or make thy
Elegy On “Stella”(1/6)