Such Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd’s ear.

Where were ye, [Nymphs], when the remorseless deep 50

Closed o’er the head of your loved Lycidas?

For neither were ye playing [on the steep]

[Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie],

[Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,]

Nor yet [where Deva spreads her wizard stream]. 55

[Ay me! I fondly dream]

“Had ye been there,” ... for what could that have done?

What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,