Original - Duke Divinity School

[Untitled] 46
[p.] 268 Cosmelia’s Charms inspire my Lays,
Who fair, in Nature’s Scorn,
Blooms in the Winter of her Days
Like Glastonbury Thorn.
Cosmelia’s cruel at threescore,
Like Bards in modern Plays
Four Acts of Life past guiltless o’er,
But in the fifth She Slays.
The Swan 47
[p.] 269 ’Twas on a River’s verdant side
About the close of Day,
A Dying Swan, with Musick, tried
To chase her Cares away.
And tho’ She ne’er had strain’d her Throat,
Or tun’d her voice before,
Death, ravish’d with so sweet a note,
Awhile the Stroke forbore.
Farewell, she cried, ye Silver Streams;
Ye purling Waves, adieu,
Where Phoebus us’d to dart his Beams,
And blest both me and you.
Farewell, ye tender whistling Reeds,
Soft Scenes of happy Love;
46 “Cosmelia’s Charms,” Hive, 2:268.
47 “The Swan,” Hive, 2:269–70.
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