Fragment of the Elegy on the Death of Bion

FROM THE GREEK OF MOSCHUS.



[Published from the Hunt manuscripts by Forman, "Poetical Works of P. B.
S.", 1876.]
Ye Dorian woods and waves, lament aloud,--
Augment your tide, O streams, with fruitless tears,
For the beloved Bion is no more.
Let every tender herb and plant and flower,
From each dejected bud and drooping bloom,                           _5
Shed dews of liquid sorrow, and with breath
Of melancholy sweetness on the wind
Diffuse its languid love; let roses blush,
Anemones grow paler for the loss
Their dells have known; and thou, O hyacinth,                        _10
Utter thy legend now--yet more, dumb flower,
Than 'Ah! alas!'--thine is no common grief--
Bion the [sweetest singer] is no more.
NOTE:
_2 tears]sorrow (as alternative) Hunt manuscript.