nor even sol too fiercely view

thy bosom blushing still with dew!

may'st thou long, sweet crimson gem,

richly deck thy native stem;

till some ev'ning, sober, calm,

dropping dews, and breathing balm,

while all around the woodland rings,

and ev'ry bird thy requiem sings;

thou, amid the dirgeful sound,

shed thy dying honours round,

and resign to parent earth

the loveliest form she e'er gave birth.