Nor ever intertwine the flowers
That fancy strews unnumbered there.
Doom'd o'er that dreary realm, alone,
Shunn'd by the gentler shades, to go,
Nor friend shall soothe, nor parent own
The child of sloth, the Muses' foe.
Rev. R. Bland, 1813.
Thee too the years shall cover; thou shalt be
As the rose born of one same blood with thee,
As a song sung, as a word said, and fall