Page:Elegiac Sonnets The Third Edition.pdf/20

[  2    ] For still she bids soft Pity's melting eye
 * Stream o'er the ills she knows not to remove,

Points every pang, and deepens every sigh
 * Of mourning friendship, or unhappy love.

Ah! then, how dear the Muse's favors cost, (a) If those paint sorrow best -- who feel it most! SONNET