Deep from your hallow'd silent shades,
Attend, attend, ye tuneful maids;
Ye Muses, haste along:
Inspire the tender, moving lay,
For surely such a mournful day
Demands a serious song.

See where with pity's force oppress'd,
(While rising sorrows heave each breast)
Three gentle Sisters weep.
See how they point with streaming eyes,
Where Parroquetta slumbering lies,
Her last, eternal sleep.

In vain the pride of beauty's bloom,
The vivid dye, the varied plume
O'er her fair form were spread:
In vain the scarlet's blushing ray,
Bright as the orient beam of day,
Adorn'd her lovely head.

Love, beauty, youth, perfection,—all
Together undistinguish'd fall
Before the' opposing Fates.
The lisping tongue, the silver hairs,
One common ruin overbears,
One common lot awaits.

Then calm, dear Maids, your woes to peace,
With unavailing sorrow cease
Your favourite to deplore;
For know, the time will surely come
When you (though now in beauty's bloom)
When you shall charm no more.

Learn then your moments to employ
In virtuous love, in Hymen's joy,
Ere yet those moments fly;
For Fate has doom'd this lot severe,
The brightest belle, the loveliest Fair,
Like Parroquets, must die.