And they have drown'd thee then at last! poor Phillis! br The burthen of old age was heavy on thee. br And yet thou should'st have lived! what tho' thine eye br Was dim, and watch'd no more with eager joy br The wonted call that on thy dull sense sunk br With fruitless repetition, the warm Sun br Would still have cheer'd thy slumber, thou didst love br To lick the hand that fed thee, and tho' past br Youth's active season, even Life itself br Was comfort. Poor old friend! most earnestly br Would I have pleaded for thee: thou hadst been br Still the companion of my childish sports, br And, as I roam'd o'er Avon's woody clifts, br From many a day-dream has thy short quick bark br Recall'd my wandering soul. I have beguil'd br Often the melancholy hours at school, br Sour'd by some little tyrant, with the thought br Of distant home, and I remember'd then br Thy faithful fondness: for not mean the joy, br Returning at the pleasant holydays, br I felt from thy dumb welcome.