OCCASION'D BY AN EPIGRAM ON A LADY WHO WEPT AT IT While maudlin Whigs deplor'd their Cato's Fate, Still with dry Eyes the Tory Celia sate, But while her Pride forbids her Tears to flow, The gushing Waters find a Vent below: Tho' secret, yet with copious Grief she mourns, Like twenty River-Gods with all their Urns. Let others screw their Hypocritick Face, She shews her Grief in a sincerer Place; There Nature reigns, and Passion void of Art, For that Road leads directly to the Heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOT BY THE SEA by SARA TEASDALE INTERIM by CLARISSA SCOTT DELANY SONG by ARTHUR WILLIAM EDGAR O'SHAUGHNESSY HENRY WARD BEECHER by CHARLES HENRY PHELPS THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION; A POEM. ENLARGED VERSION: BOOK 3 by MARK AKENSIDE ON GOOD FRIDAY, THE DAY OF OUR SAVIOUR'S PASSION by PHILIP AYRES |