WHY weeps this marble? Can his frigid power Thicken the ambient air into a shower? Ah no; these tears have sure another cause Than the necessity of Nature's laws; These tears their spring have from within; there lies The spoil of Nature, crime of destinies. How well this silent sadness doth become This awful shade; the horror of the tomb Strikes paleness through my soul; yet I must on, And pay the rights of my devotion. Pardon, you guardian angels, who attend And keep his bones safe from the Stygian fiend, That I disturb your watch with untun'd lays; I come to mourn, and not to sing his praise. A Sun that set in floods, but, oh sad haste, Ere the meridian of his age was past. A purer day the East did ne'er disclose, Than in his clear affections orient rose. Tempestuous passion did in him appear But physic, as the lightnings purge the air: Martial his temper was, yet overcame Others by smiles, himself by force did tame. Here lies the best of man; Nature with thee Lost her perfection and integrity. |