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To the Countesse of
Carlile, on the death of
the Earle her Husband.
This Cypresse folded here, in steed of Lawne,
These Tapers winking, and these Curtaines drawne;
What may they meane? unlesse to qualifie
And check the lusture of your Eyes, you'll trie
To honour darknesse, and adorne the Night,
So strive, thus with your Lord, to bury Light.
Call back, your absent Beauties to your care,
Though clouded, and conceal'd, wee know you are
The Morning's early'st Beame, life of the Day,
The Ev'ns last comfort, and her parting Ray!
But why these Teares, that give him no reliefe,
For whom you waste the virtue of your griefe?
These Tapers winking, and these Curtaines drawne;
What may they meane? unlesse to qualifie
And check the lusture of your Eyes, you'll trie
To honour darknesse, and adorne the Night,
So strive, thus with your Lord, to bury Light.
Call back, your absent Beauties to your care,
Though clouded, and conceal'd, wee know you are
The Morning's early'st Beame, life of the Day,
The Ev'ns last comfort, and her parting Ray!
But why these Teares, that give him no reliefe,
For whom you waste the virtue of your griefe?
Such
