Sweet wreck of loveliness! alas, how soon The sad brief summer of thy joys hath fled: How sorrows Friendship for thy hapless doom, Thy beauty faded, and thy hopes all dead....
Southey! high placed on the contested throne Of modern verse, a Muse, herself unknown, Sues that her tears may consecrate the strains Pour'd o'er the urn enrich'd with WHITE'S Remains!...