O honour'd flood! with reeds Pierian crown'd,
ISIS! whose argent waters glide along
Fair BELLOSITE'S Lycaean shades renown'd,
Now aid my feeble song;
And call thy chosen sons, and bid them bring
Their lays of DORICK air,
With lenient sounds to steal awhile from care
Th' inconsolable King:
O! sooth his anguish, and compose his pains
With artful unimaginable strains,
According sweetly to the golden lyre,
Such as might half inspire
The iron breast of HADES to resign
Our lost, lov'd CAROLINE.