76
To I. W.
Vpon the death of his
Mistresse.
As the great Sonnes of War, that are rays'd high
With eager heats, of frequent Victorie,
Grow to such lazy pride; they take it ill
Men still should put them to the paines to kill;
And would, at each sterne becken of the Eye,
Have the sad Foe, vaile Plumes, take leave, and dye:
So thou; as if thy Sorrowes had o'recome
Halfe the wise world, and struck all reason dumbe;
Cry'st, she is dead! and frown'st, because I now
Take not my Wreath (the treasure of my Brow)
Then hurle my selfe, and it, a Sacrifice
In hallow'd flames, to her departed Eyes.
With eager heats, of frequent Victorie,
Grow to such lazy pride; they take it ill
Men still should put them to the paines to kill;
And would, at each sterne becken of the Eye,
Have the sad Foe, vaile Plumes, take leave, and dye:
So thou; as if thy Sorrowes had o'recome
Halfe the wise world, and struck all reason dumbe;
Cry'st, she is dead! and frown'st, because I now
Take not my Wreath (the treasure of my Brow)
Then hurle my selfe, and it, a Sacrifice
In hallow'd flames, to her departed Eyes.
⟨Cause⟩
