ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION
Anonymous, "A Threnodia on L—D L—n" General Evening Post (7 October 1773).
1743: James Thomson
1746: James Thomson
1747: Catherine Talbot
1747: Thomas Gray
1747: Thomas Edwards
1748: James Thomson
1748: W. D—n
1748: J. W-n
1751: William Shenstone
1751: Horace Walpole
1755 ca.: Richard Meadowcourt
1761: Rev. John Langhorne
1763: Rev. Charles Churchill
1765: William Kenrick
1767: Samuel Johnson
1771: W. P.
1773: James Beattie
1773: Elizabeth Carter
1773: Rev. William Lipscomb
1773: John Tait
1773: Edward Cooper
1773 ca.: A. P.
1773: John Jones
1773: C. R. M. S.
1779: Rev. Vicesimus Knox
1782: Rev. Joseph Warton
1788: John Williams
1792: John Bennet
1795: Dr. Robert Anderson
1802: George Dyer
1806: John Wooll
1806: Dr. John Aikin
1806: William Forbes
1807: Robert Southey
1809: Rev. Percival Stockdale
1810: William Wordsworth
1824: Bryan Waller Procter
1825 ca.: Henry Mackenzie
1829: Anna Brownell Jameson
1832: John Taylor Esq.
1833: Thomas Enort Smith
1834: Sir Samuel Egerton Brydges
1834: Thomas Babington Macaulay
1860: George Gilfillan
1882: Epes Sargent
1888: Edmund Gosse
Ye Nymphs of Helicon, begin the lay,
And tune a solemn dirge: but chief, thou Muse,
Whose range extensive comprehends a world,
Clio! to distant ages give, what years
Revolving swift may not craze. Raise high
The breathing marble, strew the noble hearse,
And crown the honours of your Hero's head.
Lost to the world is H—y and her Lord!
Where now, ye green-rob'd Dryads, are ye fled,
To what sequester'd vale, or shady grove?
The murm'ring Naiads now no longer sport,
No longer babling tell the winding tale;
But from their long-frequented paths expell'd,
With hair dishevel'd now explore new haunts.
A L—n once liv'd, the hills resound,
Responsive Echo shrill repeats, "once liv'd;"
While universal Pan (accustom'd oft
In concert with the Graces to lead up
The festal dance) attended by the Hours,
A fun'ral distich plaits around his tomb.
Come, gentle Gales, cool Zephyrs flitting Breeze,
Fan with your odoriferous wings the pair,
The happy pair! Fair L—y and her Lord.
Sylvanus' offspring! bring your spreading shades,
Bow down your compliant boughs, with care secure
What ye contain, and feed th' endearing smiles,
Cou'd but a spark of Fire Celestial! that
In days of yore blaz'd from thy pen divine;
When near the downy bank, encompass'd round
With yielding willow and the mossy sedge,
Thy numbers flow'd mellifluent with the stream;
Might I but pluck the meanest shrub that grows
On Mount Parnassus! the the GENTLE youth
Should live immortal in my sounding verse,
And tow'ring hide his head among the clouds.
Vain is the wish, and fruitless the attempt,
Which hopes to give to Fame, in loftier strains,
In brass more durable, the polish'd bust.
O L—n! with what perfective grace,
On characters of gold, hast thou thyself
Engrav'd the verse that never dies? Thyself
Hast strew'd with choicest flow'rs the sacred tomb;
Thyself rehears'd the deeds which Henry wrought.
What art thou now? The Thracian Bard e'en fell,
Nor could the Muse defend her darling son.