Elegy On “Stella”（2 / 3）

  thus wasted are the ranks of men—
  youth, health, and beauty fall;
  the ruthless ruin spreads around,
  and overwhelms us all.
  behold where, round thy narrow house,
  the graves unnumber'd lie;
  the multitude that sleep below
  existed but to die.
  some, with the tottering steps of age,
  trod down the darksome way;
  and some, in youth's lamented prime,
  like thee were torn away:
  yet these, however hard their fate,
  their native earth receives;
  amid their weeping friends they died,
  and fill their fathers' graves.
  from thy lov'd friends, when first thy heart
  was taught by heav'n to glow,
  far, far remov'd, the ruthless stroke
  surpris'd and laid thee low.
  at the last limits of our isle,
  wash'd by the western wave,
  touch'd by thy face, a thoughtful bard
  sits lonely by thy grave.
  pensive he eyes, before him spread
  the deep, outstretch'd and vast;
  his mourning notes are borne away
  along the rapid blast.
  and while, amid the silent dead
  thy hapless fate he mourns, ↑返回顶部↑