On the death of Echo, a Lap-dog

[A]
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.

[B]
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.