Widow’d, and childless, lamentable state!
A doleful sight, among the dead she sate;
Harden’d with woes, a statue of despair,
To ev’ry breath of wind unmoved her hair;
Her cheek still reddening, but its colour dead,
Faded her eyes, and set within her head;
No more her pliant tongue its motion keeps,
But stands congeal’d within her frozen lips;
Stagnate and dull, within her purple veins,
Its current stopp’d, the lifeless blood remains;
Her feet their usual offices refuse;
Her arms and neck their graceful gestures lose:
Action and life from ev’ry part are gone,
And ev’n her entrails turn to solid stone:
Yet still she weeps, and whirld by stormy winds,
Borne through the air, her native country finds;
There, fix’d, she stands upon a bleaky hill,
There yet her marble cheeks eternal tears distil.