Sonnets, Sonnet III

O Sprung from worthies, who with counsils wise Adorn'd and strengthen'd great Elisa's throne, Who yet with virtuous pride, may'st well despise To borrow praise from merits not thy own,

Oft as I view the monumental stone Where our lov'd H * * * 's cold ashes rest, Musing on joys with him long past and gone, A pleasing sad remembrance fills my breast.—

Did the sharp pang we feel for friends deceas'd Unbated last, we must with anguish die, But nature bids it's rigour should be eas'd By lenient time, and strong necessity; These calm the passions, and subdue the mind To bear th' appointed lot of human kind.