Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/197

Rh

Bring, bring odours to the embowering shade Where the tall pine and poplar blend on high; Bring roses, exquisite, but soon to fade, Snatch every brief delight, for thou must die; Must bid thy groves farewell, thy stately dome, Thy fair retreat on yellow Tyber's shore, Whilst other inmates revel in thy home And claim thy piles of wealth; thine own no more He who relents not, dooms thee soon to tread The shore whence none return—the country of the dead.