Invention, harmony, and taste,
And fancy, brightest gift of Heaven!

In quest of many a new device,
Thro' pathless scenes they joy'd to roam,
Composing songs most wildly sweet,
Heard, with parental pride, at home.

Delighted in a wood to rove,
That near their native city spread;
There of its gayest flowers they wove,
A garland for each other's head.

One morn when this dear task was done,
And just as each the other crown'd,
Seeking deep, shade to 'scape the sun,
A piteous spectacle they found.

It was a dead disfigur'd fawn,
Its milk white haunch some monster tore;
It perish'd in that morning's dawn,
Nor had the sun yet dried its gore!

Cornelia, nature's genuine child,
Caress'd the dead, with pity pale;
It's mangled limb, with gesture mild,
She shrouded in her sea-green veil.

The sympathetic pair agreed,
To form a grave without a spade;