Classic Poem

Fair Laurel, that the only witness art
To that discourse, which underneath thy shade
Our grief-swoll'n breasts did lovingly impart.
With vows as true as e'er Religion made:
If (forced by our sighs) the flame shall fly
Of our kind love, and get within thy rind,
Be wary, gentle bay, and shriek not high,
When thou dost such unusual fervour find;
Suppress the fire; for should it take thy leaves,
Their crackling would betray us, and thy glory
(Honour's fair symbol) dies; thy trunk receives
But heat sufficient for our future story:
And when our sad misfortunes vanquish'd lie,
Embrace our fronts in sign of memory.