Page:The Lives of the Most Eminent English Poets, Volume 3.djvu/61

Rh See Pales weeping too, in wild despair, And to the piercing winds her bosom bare. And see yon fading myrtle, where appears The Queen of Love, all bath’d in flowing tears; See how she wrings her hands, and beats her breast, And tears her useless girdle from her waist: Hear the sad murmurs of her sighing doves! For grief they sigh, forgetful of their loves.

And, many years after, he gave no proof that time had improved his wisdom or his wit; for, on the death of the marquis of Blandford, this was his song:

In both these funeral poems, when he has yelled out many syllables of senseless dolour, he dismisses his reader with senseless consolation: from