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. - 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.


David Hayman

Alternate version

About this work

This is an epitaph by Robert Burns. It was written in 1793 and is read here by David Hayman.

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