1772 ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION

William Shenstone

John Ball, in "Tears of the British Muse" Odes (1772) 27.



How is my sacred Season all decay'd,
That late o'er Thompson breath'd a golden Gale!
Since Shenstone perish'd from the past'ral Shade,
How pines each Grace in Hagley's kindred Vale.

O Leasowes, by the tuneful Planter rais'd,
Ye awful Grots! ye Fanes! ye sculptur'd Urns!
Ye Graces in this Attic Page so prais'd,
What Hand Barbarian now your Grace o'erturns?

Ye Leasowes, ev'ry Muse's Haunt so late,
What Gothic Hand this Ruin dire has dar'd?
Alas! 'tis plain; O this World's changeful State!
He, he is dead, your Planter and my Bard!

He, he is dead, the sweetest, gentlest Breast
That ever knew to tune a Pipe so well;
He, he is dead! O softly may he rest,
And Palms for ever flourish round his Cell!