LYCIDAS to MENALCAS. James Boswell Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T32518 K035585.000 Boswell, James, 1740-1795. An elegy on the death of an amiable young lady. With an epistle from Menalcas to Lycidas. To which are prefixed, three critical recommendatory letters. Edinburgh printed by A. Donaldson and J. Reid. For Alex. Donaldson 1761 pp. 22-24. 24p.; 4⁰.

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LYCIDAS to MENALCAS . WHILE you in nature's works explore , The wonders of almighty pow'r , And , curious , Flora's works survey , While by your native streams you stray ; From Fortha's banks to you I send The warmest wishes of a friend . Despise not then these humble lays , A friend excites your partial praise . A friend ! — How the melodious name With nameless rapture trills my frame ! What tho' the feeble muse detains Your ardent thought from nobler strains ? Yet friendship's soft alluring joys With secret charms inchant your eyes . Now summer decks the russet plains : How sweet , how fair the rural scenes ! Say , can the weak attempts of art , Like nature , charm the glowing heart ? Can the coquet in dress how fair With yonder lily's breast compare ? Such , — such , MENALCAS , were our themes , While , by fair Glotta's lovely streams , We oft prolong'd the pleasant walk , By decent mirth and social talk : Such were our themes , when we survey'd New beauties in each length'ning mead . When ev'ning clos'd the setting day , How often did our footsteps stray O'er the gay banks of silver Clyde , Where Nature's native charms reside . Oft-times in the enamell'd mead , Or seated in a leafy shade , Sweet poetry our senses charm'd , And our imaginations warm'd ; What time in WILKIE'S flowing strains , WILKIE the HOMER of our plains , We view'd the fair Aetolian maid , By love , by too fond love betray'd . Love too did oft our speech employ , Love the pure source of social joy : Love — but what visions strike mine eyes ! What forms , what heav'nly forms arise ? AMMONIA here ! — ah me ! excuse The sallies of a wanton muse , That flies on fancy's wing away . I cease , — I cease the empty lay . Farewell , my friend . — Ye zephyrs bear My wishes to MENALCAS' ear .