Oh for a general Grief! let all things share
Our Woes that knew our Loves. The Neighbour Air
Let it be laden with Immortal Sighs,
And tell the Gales, that every Breath that flies
Over these Fields shou'd murmur and complain,
And kiss the fading Grass, and propagate the Pain.
Weep all ye Buildings, and ye Groves around
For ever Weep, This is an endless Wound
Vast and Incurable. Ye Buildings knew
His Silver Tongue, ye Groves have heard it too:
At that dear Sound no more shall ye rejoyce,
And I no more must hear the Charming Voice,
Wo to my drooping Soul! that Heavenly Breath
That could speak Life lies now congeal'd in Death;
While on his folded Lips all Cold and Pale
Eternal Chains and heavy silence dwell.