Classic Poem

ELEGIE.

Why looks the day so dull ? why does't appear
As if it were contracted to a Tear ?
Or rather had put off essentiall Light,
To shrowd its Lustre in eternall night ?
The Clouds are drowsie, as they meant to sleep,
Or rather pregnant (with salt Dew) to weep.
'Tis past the Morning now, Day needs not powre
Its precious moysture on each amorous Flowre ;
The Violets want not liquid pearls t' adorne
Their azure ears, nor from the beauteous Morne
Does the pale Couslip or the Primrose seek
A Christall Gemm to hang upon its Cheek ;
Their pride does wither, they hang down their heads,
As if they would intombe them in their beds.
The Sun-aspiring Lark under his Wing
Hanging his head, seems now to sigh, not sing.
What should portend this sadnes ? why should mirth
Seem thus o'th' suddain to bee fled from Earth ?
No Comet has appear'd of late, no Star
With blazing brightnesse threatned Death or War.
The cause then of this suddain change must be
Beyond the reach of wise Astrologie .
(My Fancie has't.) This alteration falls
Only at Beauties, Vertues Funeralls.
These are no common Obsequies, since Shee
(Illustrious Ladie) is enforc'd to bee
The Cause of these lamented Rites, by proud
Imperious Death confin'd into a Shrowd :
Shee that was so superlatively Good,
Her Vertue was her Honour more than Blood :
Whose Innocence and Love was all her Care :
Who was as purely Chast as Shee was Fayre :
So full of noble Carriage, that her Life
May be the Figure of a perfect Wife,
Look here you curious Great Ones, here doth ly
A Glasse for you to dress your Actions by.
'Twas not the name of Ca'ndish , so ally'd
To Worth, that could in her beget least Pride ;
Nor did shee boast her Title, being led
A glorious Bride to hopefull Rich his Bed.
Gentle as Summer Evenings, or as Ayre,
In its first native Puritie ; and Faire
As was the Beams of the Created Light,
Before it ever had convers'd with Night ;
Humble as Vot'ries, that in Prayer expire ;
And Chast as those who never knew Desire
Was this Religious Dame, who nere can die,
Since her own Fame has writ her Elegie.