Page:The works of Anna Laetitia Barbauld volume 1.djvu/193

Rh With love, with health, with fame and friendship blest, And of a cheerful heart the constant feast, What more of bliss sincere could earth bestow? What purer heaven could angels taste below? But bliss from earth's vain scenes too quickly flies; The golden cord is broke; Alexis dies! Now in the leafy shade and widowed grove Sad Philomela mourns her absent love; Now deep retired in Frome's enchanting vale, She pours her tuneful sorrows on the gale; Without one fond reserve the world disclaims, And gives up all her soul to heavenly flames. Yet in no useless gloom she wore her days; She loved the work, and only shunned the praise: Her pious hand the poor, the mourner blest; Her image lived in every kindred breast. Thynn, Carteret, Blackmore, Orrery approved, And Prior praised, and noble Hertford loved; Seraphic Kenn, and tuneful Watts were thine, And virtue's noblest champions filled the line.