I A GRIEV'D Countess, that ere long Must leave off her sweet-nois'd title; A griev'd Countess, that ere long 'Mongst the crowd for place may throng; In her hand that patent holding Which perforce she must bring in, Oft with moist eyes it beholding, Her complaint thus did begin. II 'Cruel monsters! do you know What a massacre y'have voted? Cruel monsters! do you know Th' harm you'll cause at one sad blow? Dukes, earls, marquises, how many! 'Las! how many a lord and knight, Without pity shown to any, You'll cut off through bloody spight! III Fond astrologers, away! You that talk o' th' sun's thick darkness; Fond astrologers, away! Y'are mistaken in the day. Sure you calculate not duly, Th' ephemerides else skips; On the twenty-fifth more truly Y'ought to place the great eclipse. IV Our dear-purchas'd honours then Will by foggy mists be clouded; Our dear-purchas'd honours then Will (alas!) ne'er shine again. All my hopes are, that those vapours Which extinguish now our light, Will put out too th' ancient tapers; Since I'm dark, would all were night!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HIPPOPOTAMUS by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT THE FROGS: A 'EURIPIDEAN' CHORUS by ARISTOPHANES THE FRATERNAL DUEL by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS THE EXILE'S RETURN by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING MISS NOBODY'S CHRISTMAS DINNER by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER THE CUCKOO AND THE NIGHTINGALE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER HARTLEY COLERIDGE by EDWARD JAMES MORTIMER COLLINS |