To Mrs. ROWE.
On her Elegy on the death of the honourable Mrs. Thynne.
By the right honourable JOHN, Earl of Orrery.
So sweet you sing, so well your Laura paint,
Weep so pathetic a departed saint,
That with fresh rage my sorrows you renew,
And call my Henrietta to my view.
Before my eyes the charmer stands confest,
Again I see her, and again am blest.
Oh, no—the vision's gone—an airy dream,
Rais'd by the magic of your mournful theme:
But since by fate we are alike opprest,
Since ling'ring sorrows both our minds infest,
From hence let mutual consolation flow,
And let each breast with new-born friendship glow.
Thus, when the tedious race of life is run,
And all our fleeting earthly joys are gone,
Together to the realms of light we'll fly,
You to meet Laura, Henrietta, I.
Marston, Dec. 17. 1734.
