While hoary moisture all the fields o’erspread,
Where ozier cypress, and the drooping yew,
Had form’d a musing melancholy shade.
Belinda sat, bedew’d with briny tears,
The echoing grove her deep-fetch’d sighs retain;
Her plaintive note distress’d my list’ning ears,
While in low accents thus she did complain.
“And is the pleasing scene, alas! no more!
Corrosive grief now on my vitals prey!
Distress’d, in sighs I spend the heavy hour,