 | The Tragicall Death of Sophonisba
|  |
|
Sonet on the death of the Lady Cicily Weemes, Lady of Tillebarne.
Faire
Cicil's losse, be thou my sable song,
Not that for which proud Rome and Carthage straue
But thine more famous, whom ago not long
Vntimely death intomb'd so soone in graue.
Deare sacred Lady, let thy ghost receiue
These dying accents of my mourning quill,
The sweetest-smelling incense that I haue,
With sighes and teares vpon thy hearse to spill.
To thee (deare Saint) I consecrate ay still
These sad oblations of my mirthlesse mind,
Who while thou breath'd, this wondring world did fill
With thy perfections, Phœnix of thy kind:
From out whose ashes hence I prophecie,
Shall neuer such another Phœnix flie.
| The Tragicall Death of Sophonisba
| |
|
