O, all ye loves and groves lament!
And you of hearts humane;
Our darling linnet's breath is spent,
And all our tears are vain.
Its sweetly varied voice no more
Shall strike my Delia's ear;
It visits now the Strygian shore,
Whence no returns are here.

Torpid and cold, thy beauteous frame
Our sight no more shall charm;
Thy loss the deepest woe shall claim,
The brightest eyes disarm.
Long shall my Delia mourn thy doom,
With undissembled woe,
Before her clouded charms resume
Their animating glow.