ODE, to a LADY. On the Death of Col. Charles Ross, in the Action at Fontenoy. Written May 1745. William Collins Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T131163 K104099.001 Dodsley, Robert, 1703-1764. A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes. By Several Hands. Vol. I. London printed by J. Hughs, for R. and J. Dodsley 1763 [1st ed. 1758] pp. 321-323. 6v.: music; 8⁰.

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ODE , to a LADY . On the Death of Col. Charles Ross , in the Action at Fontenoy . Written May 1745 . By Mr. W. Collins . I. WHILE , lost to all his former mirth , BRITANNIA'S genius bends to earth , And mourns the fatal day ; While , stain'd with blood , he strives to tear Unseemly from his sea-green hair The wreaths of cheerful May ; II . The thoughts which musing pity pays , And fond remembrance loves to raise , Your faithful hours attend ; Still fancy , to herself unkind , Awakes to grief the soften'd mind , And points the bleeding friend . III . By rapid Scheld's descending wave His country's vows shall bless the grave , Where-e'er the youth is laid : That sacred spot the village hind With ev'ry sweetest turf shall bind , And peace protect the shade . IV . O'er him , whose doom thy virtues grieve , Aërial forms shall sit at eve And bend the pensive head ! And , fall'n to save his injur'd land , Imperial Honour's aweful hand Shall point his lonely bed ! V. The warlike dead of every age , Who fill the fair recording page , Shall leave their sainted rest : And , half-reclining on his spear , Each wond'ring Chief by turns appear , To hail the blooming guest . VI . Old EDWARD'S sons , unknown to yield , Shall crowd from CRESSY'S laurell'd field , And gaze with fix'd delight ; Again for Britain's wrongs they feel , Again they snatch the gleamy steel , And wish th' avenging fight . VII . If , weak to sooth so soft an heart , These pictur'd glories nought impart To dry thy constant tear ; If yet in sorrow's distant eye , Expos'd and pale thou seest him lie , Wild war insulting near . VIII . Where-e'er from time thou court'st relief , The Muse shall still with social grief Her gentle promise keep : Ev'n humble HARTING'S cottag'd vale Shall learn the sad repeated tale , And bid her shepherds weep .