Written on the great steeple of York Minster. Sept 1792
While from this height sublime in prospect wide
Old Ebor’s vales and streets and streets appear,
And time-worn walls and towers, her antient pride;
Why swells my heart? why starts th’unconscious tear?
Ah, once loved scenes and still to fancy dear!
You memory’s faithful registers unroll,
Recall the joys of many a long past year,
And lave in sweetest sorrow all my sole:
There first Lavinia’s warblings charm’d my ear,
There first I viewed with rapture Laura’s face,
There Mason deign’d my artless rhymes to hear,
And there reposes one in death’s embrace,
Whose image never from my heart shall fade,
Till low in dust like his these failing limbs are laid.