Dandy---o (1)/The dying swan

THE DYING SWAN.

’TWAS on a river’s verdant side,
⁠about the close of day,
⟨A⟩ dying Swan with music try’d
⁠⟨To⟩ chase her cares away.

⟨And⟩ tho’ she ne’er had strain’d her throat,
⁠⟨Nor⟩ tun’d her voice before,
⟨Death⟩ ravish’d with so sweet a note,
⁠ a while his stroke forebore.

⟨Farewel⟩ tho’ she cry’d, ye silver streams,
⁠⟨Ye⟩ purling waves adieu,
⟨Where⟩ Phoebus us’d to dart his beams,
⁠and bless both me and you.

⟨Farewel⟩ ye tender whistling reeds,
⁠⟨Soft⟩ scenes of happy love;
⟨Farewel⟩, ye bright enamell'd meads,
⁠where I was wont to rove.

⟨With⟩ you I must no more converse;
⁠look, yonder setting sun
⟨Waits,⟩ while I these notes rehearse,
⁠and then he must be gone.

⟨Mourn⟩ not, my kind and constant mate,
⁠We'll meet again below;
⟨It is⟩ the kind decree of Fate,
⁠and I with pleasure go.

While thus she sung, upon a tree
⁠within the adjacent wood,
To hear her mournful melody,
⁠a Stork attentive stood.

From whence thus to the Swan she spoke
⁠What means this song of joy?
Is it, fond fool, so kind a stroke
⁠that does thy life destroy?

Turn back, deluded bird, and try
⁠to keep thy fleeting breath:
It is a dismal thing to die,
⁠and pleasure ends in death.

Base Stork, the Swain reply'd, give o’er,
⁠thy arguments arc vain;
If after death we are no more,
⁠yet we are free from pain.

But there are soft Elysian shades,
⁠and bow’rs of kind repose,
Where never any storm invades,
⁠nor tempest ever blows.

There in cool streams, and shady woods.
⁠I’ll sport the time away;
Or, swimming down the chrystal floods,
⁠among young Halcons play.

Then pr’ythee cease, or tell me why
⁠I have such cause to grieve?
Since ‘tis a happiness to die,
⁠and 'tis a pain to live.

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Printed by J. and M. Robertson, Saltmarket, ⟨1799⟩