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Then, Phyllis, fince our passions are
To my Lord of NORTHUMBERLAND,
upon the Death of his Lady. T O this great loss a sea of tears is due :
But the whole debt not to be paid by you. Charge not yourself with all, nor render vain Those Mowers, the eyes of us your servants rain. Shall grief contract the largeness of that heart, In which nor fear, nor anger, has a part ? Virtue would blush, if time should boast (which dries, Her sole child dead, the tender mother's eyes) Your mind's relief; where reason triumphs fo Over all passions, that they ne'er could grow Beyond their limits in your noble breast, To harm another, or impeach your reft. This we observ'd, delighting to obey One, who did never from his great self stray: Whofe mild example seemed to engage Th'obsequious seas, and teach them not to rage.
The brave Æmilius, his great charge laid down, (The force of Rome, and fate of Macedon) In his loft fons did feel the cruel stroke Of changing Fortune; and thus highly spoke Before Rome's people; “ We did oft implor?, “ That if the heavens had any bad in 'ore « For your Æmilius, they would pour that ill “ On his own house, and let you flourish still.” You on the barren seas, my Lord, have spent Whole springs; and summers to the public lent: Suspended all the pleasures of your life, And Morten’d the short joy of such a wife : For which your country's more obliged, than For many lives of old, less happy, men. You, that have sacrific'd so great a part of youth, and private bliss, ought to impart Your sorrow too; and give your friends a right As well in your affliction, as delight. Then with Æmilian-courage bear this cross, Since public perfons only public loss Ought to affect. And though her fórm, and youth, Her application to your will, and truth; That noble sweetness, and that humble state, (All snatch'd away by such a hasty fate!) Might give excuse to any common breast, With the huge weight of so just grief opprest : Yet let no portion of your life be stain'd With passion, but your character maintain'd To the last act: it is enough her stone May honour'd be with superscription
Of the sole Lady, who had power to move
To my LORD ADMIRAL, of his late Sickness
and Recovery. WIT
TITH joy like ours, the Thracian youth invades
Orpheus, returning from th' Elysian fhades; Embrace the Hero, and his stay implore ; Make it their public suit, he would no more Desert them fo; and for his fpouse's fake, His vanish'd love, tempt the Lethean lake: The Ladies too, the brightest of that time, (Ambitious all his lofty bed to climb) Their doubtful hopes with expectation feed, Who Thall the fair Eurydice succeed : Eurydice! for whom his numerous moan Makes listening trees and savage mountains groan': Through all the air his founding strings dilate Sorrow, like that which touch'd our hearts of late. Your pining sickness, and your restless pain, At once the land affecting, and the Main : When the glad news that you were Admiral Scarce through the nation spread, 'twas fear'd by all That our great Charles, whose wisdom shines in you, Would be perplexed how to chuse a new. So more than private was the joy, and grief, That at the worst it gave our souls relief, That in our age such sense of virtue liv'd; They joy'd fo justly, and so justly griev'd.
Nature (her faireft lights eclipsed) seems
The next support, fair hope of your great name,
And now, relentless Fate about to end The line, which backwards does so far extend That antique stock, which still the world supplies With bravest spirits, and with brightest eyes ; Kind Phæbus interpofing, bid me say Such storms no more shall shake that house; but they
Like Neptune, and his * sea-born Niece, shall be
rise With no such wonder, as De Mornay's eyes.
Well does this prove
Which made you move
On my Lady DOROTHY SIDNEY's Picture. SH
UCH was Philoclea, and such + Dorus' flame;
The I matchless Sidney, that immortal frame
1 Sir Philip Sidney.