1765 ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION

William Collins

Anonymous, in "To the Lyric Muse" Scots Magazine 27 (February 1765) 102.



If e'er to modern days
Descend thy genuine lays,
Thee Collins, hapless Collins did possess:
Curdles my blood in every vein,
Fear, with all his ghastly train,
Danger with his giant-stride,
Murder fell, and Ruin wide,
On my thick-beating heart tumultuous press—
That Pity, with her dewy lighted eyes,
Curs'd be the wretch his memory who denies,
Which erst he bade in numbers soft to flow,
And pluck'd the cypress wreath for yet another's woe.