Smiling river, smiling river,

        On thy bosom sun-beams play;

        ting areating,

        t more deceit they.

        In thy el,

        es,

        Deep immersed, and unhearsed,

        Lies young Edwards corse: his bones.

        Ever wening, ever wening,

        As t them dash;

        torrent, in t,

        S o wash.

        As if senseless, as if senseless

        this case;

        so blindly, and unkindly,

        It destroyd, it now does grace.
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