James Beattie,
The Poetical Works of James Beattie
“ For mournful lays to Gallus' love belong. (What Muse in sympathy will not bestow Some tender strains to soothe my Gallus' woe?) So may thy waters pure of briny stain Traverse the waves of the Sicilian main. Sing, mournful Muse, of Gallus' luckless love, While the goats browse along the cliffs above. [Pg 230] Nor silent is the waste while we complain, The woods return the long-resounding strain. Whither, ye fountain-nymphs, were ye withdrawn, To what lone woodland, or what devious lawn, When Gallus' bosom languish'd with the fire Of hopeless love, and unallay'd desire? ”
