An Elegy

Miss Flaxman

To be read with a solemn tone

Bring ev’ry nymph a branch of holly
To deck this sacred spot
For he, who once was blithe and jolly
Fitz P. is gone to pot.

And here the soul, so melancholy
Shall sit and hoot alone
And here shall lampkin come with Dolly
To sit upon a stone.

But here no naughty boy shall play
With marbles or with top
And nothing but some silly goose
The herbage round shall crop.

Then bring each nymph a bough of holly
To deck this sacred spot
For he who once was blithe and jolly
Fitz P. is gone to pot.

Cypressa