Hath robbed of joyance; and left sad annoy.
Joy of the world! and shepherds' pride was he:
Shepherds hope never, like again to see."
"Oh, Death! that hast us of such riches reft,
Tell us at least, What hast thou with it done?
What is become of him, whose flower here left;
Is but the shadow of his likeness gone.
Scarce like the shadow of that which he was:
Nought like, but that he, like a shade, did pass."
"But that immortal spirit, which was deckt