  I cease, and bid farewell to who hath swayed, This tribute’s mite of unmelodious verse; With many a billow my bark’s idly play’d, My thoughts enamoured but of thee, their hearse; And think not, though life drags a tedious chain, And all it offers, shows on trial nought, Believe not, I will sorrow, or complain; Hast thou not stored all summer in my thought? And, watching the bright heavens, or the glad ocean, I’ll think thou look’st, and they repeat thy smile; Nor shall life’s utmost favour of commotion Bid homage spurn my Sovereign from love’s isle: To live in mortal’s mouths, be others’ aim; To dwell within thy heart, my only claim. HERTFORD: |
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