SIR WILLIAM JONES

478. Epigram

ON parent knees, a naked new-born child, Weeping thou sat'st while all around thee smiled: So live, that sinking to thy life's last sleep, Calm thou may'st smile, whilst all around thee weep.

��o

��THOMAS CHATTERTON

Song from ^/Rlla

SING unto my roundelay,

��O drop the briny tear with me ; Dance no more at holyday, Like a running river be :

My love is dead,

Gone to his death-bed All under the willow-tree.

Black his cryne as the winter night, White his rode as the summer snow, Red his face as the morning light, Cold he lies in the grave below :

My love is dead,

Gone to his death-bed All under the willow-tree.

Sweet his tongue as the throstle's note, Quick in dance as thought can be, Deft his tabor, cudgel stout; O he lies by the willow-tree! My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed All under the willow-tree, cryne] hair. rode] complexion.

�� �