elegy

O heighth! o Depthe! upon my bended knees
Who dare Expound these Wondrous Mysteries:
That this rare plant is cropt before mine Eyes
(Meer Shadow) left to write her Elegies.
Pray what brave Artist here can Understand
What one intends that takes a pen in hand?
Twas t'other day a place I visited
Where stands a palme, one limb where of is dead.
A bow'r which many years Thousands have shaded
By whome one Church was built: and Willard aided
Seeking the plat of Immortality
I saw no place secure but some must die

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR ROBERT CARR, VISCOUNT ROCHESTER, KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER, AND ONE OF HIS MAJESTY'S MOST HONOURABLE PRIVY COUNCIL.

My right noble lord,

Horace: Book II, Elegy 8

"Eripitur nobis iam pridem cara puella---"


While she I loved is being torn
From arms that held her many years,
Dost thou regard me, friend, with scorn,
Or seek to check my tears?

Bitter the hatred for a jilt,
And hot the hates of Eros are;
My hatred, slay me as thou wilt,
For thee'd be gentler far.

Can I endure that she recline
Upon another's arm? Shall they
No longer call that lady "mine"
Who "mine" was yesterday?