Tixall Poetry/On the Death of My Deare Sister, C. A.
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On
the Death of My Deare Sister, C. A.
Where nature for a share of griefe do's call,
Friendship for more, and merit most of all,
What heart can swell so high, what time can be
Ever enough to satisfy all three?
Nay, 'tis one cause of sorrow more, that they
Challenge a greater debt then I can pay;
And my discharge thereof must only be
Desire to doe it, and incapacity.
Tho' I sometimes with lost indeavour frame
These arguments, t' invalidate their claime.
I urge 'gainst nature the necessity
Of death; she has paid a debt, life can but be
A short forbearance of, and I shall soone
Finish the race she has before me run.
Tho' friendship justly challenges much more,
It gives resembling meanes to quit the score.
Tho' by the satisfaction which I tooke
In each discourse of hers, in every looke,
In seeing all that I could wish to see,
"Where I did most desire that it should be,
I may summe up how much I've lost in her,
I must to mine her happiness prefer.
For all enjoyments here but nothings prove
To what her merit gaines by this remove.
Lastly, the want of her example, (who
Scorn'd all delights of sense, and joined thereto
A care t' inlarge her soule's capacity
In ail perfection, with that constancy
Wherewith she crown'd her other vertues,) lays
The greatest claim to grief; yet that she prays
More powerfully now then she could here,
My course to that blest port of bliss to steer.
This obligation quits and leaves me alone,
My sorrow having a just cause for none.
But yet, in spite of all my reasons, must
My heart and eyes pay tribute to her dust;
And often number by my sighs and teares
The pleasures I possest, ev'n from those yeares
Ere I soe much as what was pleasure knew,
Till they to all this world could yield me grew.
She had to see my love a knowing minde,
And to returne it had a heart as kind.
On some, perhaps, this and that sorrow lyes,
But never one that did all els comprise;
And such is mine, which do's encrease admit
Even from the feare I yield too much to it.
Nor hardly doe I my misfortune more
Lament, than that excess of grief deplore:
Since 'tis an injury to her, whose state
Cannot my sorrow now participate.
And since our joys and griefes here still were one
I doe confess it is my fault alone,
That I that happy union now destroy,
I hope we ever shall againe enjoy;
When once my thoughts fixt in her glory have
Orecome the sad remembrance of her grave
Friendship for more, and merit most of all,
What heart can swell so high, what time can be
Ever enough to satisfy all three?
Nay, 'tis one cause of sorrow more, that they
Challenge a greater debt then I can pay;
And my discharge thereof must only be
Desire to doe it, and incapacity.
Tho' I sometimes with lost indeavour frame
These arguments, t' invalidate their claime.
I urge 'gainst nature the necessity
Of death; she has paid a debt, life can but be
A short forbearance of, and I shall soone
Finish the race she has before me run.
Tho' friendship justly challenges much more,
It gives resembling meanes to quit the score.
Tho' by the satisfaction which I tooke
In each discourse of hers, in every looke,
In seeing all that I could wish to see,
"Where I did most desire that it should be,
I may summe up how much I've lost in her,
I must to mine her happiness prefer.
For all enjoyments here but nothings prove
To what her merit gaines by this remove.
Lastly, the want of her example, (who
Scorn'd all delights of sense, and joined thereto
A care t' inlarge her soule's capacity
In ail perfection, with that constancy
Wherewith she crown'd her other vertues,) lays
The greatest claim to grief; yet that she prays
More powerfully now then she could here,
My course to that blest port of bliss to steer.
This obligation quits and leaves me alone,
My sorrow having a just cause for none.
But yet, in spite of all my reasons, must
My heart and eyes pay tribute to her dust;
And often number by my sighs and teares
The pleasures I possest, ev'n from those yeares
Ere I soe much as what was pleasure knew,
Till they to all this world could yield me grew.
She had to see my love a knowing minde,
And to returne it had a heart as kind.
On some, perhaps, this and that sorrow lyes,
But never one that did all els comprise;
And such is mine, which do's encrease admit
Even from the feare I yield too much to it.
Nor hardly doe I my misfortune more
Lament, than that excess of grief deplore:
Since 'tis an injury to her, whose state
Cannot my sorrow now participate.
And since our joys and griefes here still were one
I doe confess it is my fault alone,
That I that happy union now destroy,
I hope we ever shall againe enjoy;
When once my thoughts fixt in her glory have
Orecome the sad remembrance of her grave
The End.