Ungentle Death with fatal dart,
Has pierc'd young Phillis to the heart.
Tyrannic death that wou'd not spare
The wise, the witty, and the fair.
She blossom'd with so quick a shoot,
You had the bloom, but heav'n the fruit.
(Young plants, thus loaded, often drop,
Kill'd with their own luxuriant crop.)
Transplanted to that happy shore,
Where sickly Winters blast no more.