They're all to the dark grave and silence fled,
And never now in story shall be read,
And never now shall take their date,
Snatched hence by the preventing hand of envious fate.
9
Ah, would I had thy fatal place supplied!
I'd then repaid a life, which to thy gift I owe,
Repaid a crown, which friendship taught thee to forego:
Both debts, I ne'er can cancel now:
Oh, dearer than my soul! if I can call it mine,
For sure we had the same, 'twas very thine,
Dearer than light, or life, or fame,
Or crowns, or anything that I can wish, or think, or name.
Brother thou wast, but wast my friend before,
And that new title then could add no more:
Mine more than blood, alliance, nature's self could make,
Than I, or fame itself can speak:
Not yearning mothers, when first throes they feel,
To their young babes in looks a softer passion tell:
Not artless undissembling maids express
In their last dying sighs such tenderness:
Not thy fair sister, whom strict duty bids me wear
First in my breast, whom holy vows make mine,
Though all the virtues of a loyal wife she bear,
Could boast an union so near,
Could boast a love so firm, so lasting, so divine.
So pure is that which we in angels find
To mortals here, in heaven to their own kind:
So pure, but not more great must that blessed friendship prove
(Could, ah, could I to that wished place, and thee remove)
Which shall for ever join our mingled souls above.
10
Exposed to all the bolts of angry fate!
Exposed to all thy enemies' revengeful hate!
