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On the death of Echo, a Lap-dog

In wood and wild, ye warbling throng,
Your heavy loss deplore;
Now half extinct your powers of song,
Sweet Echo is no more.

Ye jarring, screeching things around,
Scream your discordant joys;
Now half your din of tuneless sound
With Echo silent lies.

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SECOND VERSION

Ye warblers of the vocal grove,
Your heavy loss deplore;
Now half your melody is lost,
Sweet Echo is no more.

Each shrieking, screaming bird and beast,
Exalt your tuneless voice;
Half your deformity is hid,
Here Echo silent lies.

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