ye rugged cliffs, o'erhanging dreary glens,

to you i fly—ye with my soul accord.

princes, whose cumb'rous pride was all their worth,

shall venal lays their pompous exit hail,

and thou, sweet excellence! forsake our earth,

and not a muse with honest grief bewail?

we saw thee shine in youth and beauty's pride,

and virtue's light, that beams beyond the spheres;

but, like the sun eclips'd at morning tide,

thou left us darkling in a world of tears.

the parent's heart that nestled fond in thee,

that heart how sunk, a prey to grief and care;

so deckt the woodbine sweet yon aged tree;

so, from it ravish'd, leaves it bleak and bare.