Explore "Of the Death of the Left Hon. ***" by Oliver Goldsmith on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
YE Muses, pour the pitying tear / For Pollio snatch'd away; / O! had he liv'd another year! - / _He had not died to-day._
O! were he born to bless mankind, / In virtuous times of yore, / Heroes themselves had fallen behind! - / _Whene'er he went before._
How sad the groves and plains appear, / And sympathetic sheep; / Even pitying hills would drop a tear! - / _If hills could learn to weep._
His bounty in exalted strain / Each bard might well display; / Since none implor'd relief in vain! - / _That went reliev'd away._
And hark! I hear the tuneful throng / His obsequies forbid, / He still shall live, shall live as long! - / _As ever dead man did._