Classic Poem

Ah, worthy Prince! would I for thee had dyed!
Ah, would I had thy fatal place supplied!
I'd then repaid a Life, which to thy gift I owe,
Repaid a Crown, which Friendship taught thee to forgo;
Both Debts, I ne'er can cancel now:
Oh, dearer than my Soul! if I can call it mine,
For sure we had the same, 'twas very thine,
Dearer than Light, or Life, or Fame,
Or Crowns, or any thing, that I can wish, or think, or name:
Brother thou wast, but wast my Friend before,
And that new Title then could add no more:
Mine more than Blood, Alliance, Natures self could make,
Than I, or Fame it self can speak:
Not yearning Mothers, when first Throes they feel
To their young Babes in looks a softer Passion tell:
Not artless undissembling Maids express
In their last dying sighs such Tenderness:
Not thy fair Sister, whom strict Duty bids me wear
First in my Breast, whom holy Vows make mine,
Tho all the Virtues of a loyal Wife she bear,
Could boast an Union so near,
Could boast a Love so firm, so lasting, so Divine.
So pure is that which we in Angels find
To Mortals here, in Heav'n to their own kind:
So pure, but not more great must that blest Friendship prove
(Could, ah, could I to that wisht Place, and Thee remove)
Which shall for ever joyn our mingled Souls above.