Wandering to other strains, my fancy dwells
Yet about the musings that enwrap thy name;
Aught that awakes some peal from far joy-bells,
Youth’s hopes, and holydays, recalls thy fame:
This hast thou sanctified by eloquent words,
And that enshrinèd in thy beauty lies;
As spring awakes and calls the joyous birds,
Truth comes with thee, at thy departure flies:
Yet gladlier o’er thy image would I pause,
Swelling the verse with music of thy name,
If once my efforts might support the cause,
Nor blot thy merits with my failure’s shame:
Enough, if indirect and faltering praise
Attest my love, failing thy fame to raise.