12
Somewhat was to the miserable due,
Which they might justly challenge too.
Whate'er mishap did a known heart oppress,
The same did thine as wretched make;
Like yielding wax, thine did the impression take,
And paid its sadness in as lively dress.
Thou couldst afflictions from another breast translate,
And foreign grief impropriate;
Oft-times our sorrows thine so much have grown,
They scarce were more our own;
Who seemed exempt, thou sufferedst all alone.
13
But made thee give in alms a tear;
And when our hearts breathed their regret in sighs,
As a just tribute to their miseries,
Thine with their mournful airs did symbolize,
Like throngs of sighs did for its fibres crowd,
And told thy grief from our each grief aloud:
Such is the secret sympathy
We may betwixt two neighbouring lutes descry,
If either, by unskilful hand too rudely bent,
Its soft complaint in pensive murmurs vent,
As if it did that injury resent,
Untouched, the other straight returns the moan,
And gives an echo to each groan;
From its sweet bowels a sad note's conveyed,
Like those which to condole are made,
As if its bowels too a kind compassion had.
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Or in such narrow limits pent.
Let female frailty in fond tears distill,
Who think that moisture which they spill
