I view your lacerated Breast;
This Waste of Ravages! where stood
Your Sylvan Wealth! your graceful Wood!
I cannot from the rifled Earth
Call into sudden, second Birth
The Forest, vanished from your sight,
Tho’ once your Pride! and my Delight!
But I can raise, in your Distress,
A Charm, that scarce will soothe you less;
Behold this Proof of my Regard,