In all the wide-stretched prospect’s ample bound,
No more my mournful eye
Can aught of her espy,
But the sad sacred earth where her dear relics lie.
Sweet babes, who, like the little playful fawns,
Were wont to trip along these verdant lawns,
By your delighted mother’s side:
Who now your infant steps shall guide?
* * * * *
Smollett, who considered that his merits had been neglected by Lord Lyttleton, wrote the following parody on this monody:—