On
the
Death
of
a
Lady's
Owl
.
By
the
Same
.
THE
Owl
expires
!
death
gave
the
dreadful
word
,
And
lovely
Anna
weeps
her
fav'rite
bird
.
Ye
feather'd
choir
in
willing
throngs
repair
,
And
sooth
the
sorrows
of
the
melting
fair
;
In
sounds
of
woe
the
dear-departed
greet
,
With
cypress
strew
,
ye
doves
,
the
green
retreat
;
The
fateful
raven
tolls
the
passing
bell
,
The
solemn
dirge
be
sung
by
Philomel
;
Sir
Chanticlear
,
a
chief
of
hardy
race
,
Shall
guard
from
kites
and
daws
the
sacred
place
.
With
your
just
tears
a
bard
shall
mix
his
own
,
And
thus
,
in
artless
verse
,
inscribe
the
stone
.
EPITAPH
.
INTERR'D
within
this
little
space
The
bird
of
wisdom
lies
;
Learn
hence
,
how
vain
is
ev'ry
grace
,
How
fruitless
to
be
wise
.
Can
mortal
stop
the
arm
of
Death
Who
ne'er
compassion
knew
?
He
Adonis
.
Venus'
lover
robb'd
of
breath
,
He
,
Anna's
darling
slew
.
Ah
happy
bird
,
to
raise
those
sighs
Which
man
could
ne'er
obtain
!
Ah
happy
bird
,
to
cloud
those
eyes
That
fir'd
each
kneeling
swain
!
Thrice
bless'd
thy
life
,
her
joy
,
her
bliss
,
Thrice
bless'd
thy
happy
doom
;
She
gave
thee
many
a
melting
kiss
,
She
wept
upon
thy
tomb
.