She mourns, sweet tuneful youth, thy hapless fate;
Tho’ all the powers of song thy fancy fired,
Yet Luxury and Wealth lay by in state,
And, thankless, starv’d what they so much admired.
This tribute, with a tear, now gives
A brother Bard—he can no more bestow:
But dear to fame thy Song immortal lives,
A nobler monument than Art can shew.