Elegiac.
The plaintive Elegy, in mournful state,
Dishevelled weeps the stern decrees of fate;
Now paints the lover's torments and delights;
Now the nymph flatters, threatens, or invites:
But he who would these passions well express
Must more of love than poesy possess.
Boileau.
Whom the gods love die young, was said of yore,
And many deaths they do escape by this:
The Death of Friends, and that which slays even more,
The Death of Friendship, Love, Youth, all that is,
Except mere breath; and since the silent shore
Awaits at last even those whom longest miss
The old Archer's shafts, perhaps the early Grave
Which men weep over may be meant to save.
Byron.
Thou know'st, 'tis common; all that live must die,
Passing through Nature to Eternity.
Shakspeare.