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The rose was sick, and smiling died; And, being to be sanctified, About the bed there sighing stood The sweet and flowery sisterhood. Some hung the head, while some did bring, To wash her, water from the spring. Some laid her forth, while others wept, But all a solemn fast there kept. The holy sisters, some among, The sacred dirge and trentall sung. But ah! what sweets smelt everywhere, As heaven had spent all perfumes there. At last, when prayers for the dead And rites were all accomplished, They, weeping, spread a lawny loom And clos'd her up, as in a tomb. Trentall, a service for the dead.


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Mine eyes, like clouds, were drizzling rain; And as they thus did entertain The gentle beams from Julia's sight To mine eyes levell'd opposite, O thing admir'd! there did appear A curious rainbow smiling there; Which was the covenant that she No more would drown mine eyes or me.