Classic Poem

In Imitation of a Certain Modern Elegy On the Death of - - - - - -

Mourn! all ye Fields, and change your Native Green;
Spring Rosemary, where Roses, once, were seen.
Mourn! all ye Woods; mourn every shady Grove;
Grief be your Scene, as, once, your Scene was Love.
List! noisy Birds! Ye rougher Blasts, too, cease,
And only fan the melancholy Place.
List! Eccho; or else gentlest Murmurs learn,
And in soft Breezes, smoothest Sighs return.
Let every Tree bow down his drooping Head;
Ranter! alas! your dearest Ranter ,'s Dead!

No more you'll hear the Dog's delicious Cry!
No more you'll eccho 't thro' the gladden'd Sky.
No more the Chace, so swiftly, run you'll see;
No more you'll sport in seeing Ranter flee;
He's gone! the Joy of every Stream and Tree!
He's, gone — — — —
Where-e'er he ran, beloved of the Place;
He's gone! of all the Pack the only Grace!

Ceas'd are his Notes; th' attentive Huntsman' Care
Ceas'd is that Mouth Diana 's Self might hear,
With new Delight, were every Part an Ear.
Oh! how he foam'd, when, eager of his Prey,
His tender Nose bid his fleet Heels away;
With Joy He made it off ; for Puss's Death
Drew on, as Ranter drew his skilful Breath.
He held out stoutly, as He first began;
And grac'd the springing Flowers, as He Ran .
The Fox and Hare may sport, and play secure,
Or, whene'er Ranter Cry'd it , Death was sure;
T'er At a Loss : His Loss who can endure?

Like as some Hero, who, with many a Scar,
aught out a Life, successfully in War,
Faring, lest Age should do, what War did not,
Runs boldly on, and dies upon the Spot.
Ranter dy'd. In Chace, in View of Prey,
Thro' roughest Ways He made undaunted Way;
Boldly He sprang into th' impetuous Tyde,
And seiz'd his Game , and, as He seiz'd, He dy'd.