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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408450" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>AN ELEGY Occasioned by the losse of the most incomparable Lady Stanhope, daughter to the Earl of Northumberland</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lightned by that dimme Torch our sorrow bears <br>We sadly trace thy Coffin with our tears; <br>And though the Ceremonious Rites are past <br>Since thy fair body into earth was cast; <br>Though all thy Hatchments into ragges are torne, <br>Thy Funerall Robes and Ornaments outworn; <br>We still thy mourners without Shew or Art, <br>With solemn Blacks hung round about our heart, <br>Thus constantly the Obsequies renew <br>Which to thy precious memory are due. <br>Yet think not that we rudely would invade <br>The dark recess of thine untroubled shade, <br>Or give disturbance to that happy peace <br>Which thou enjoy'st at full since thy release; <br>Much less in sullen murmurs do complain <br>Of His decree who took thee back again, <br>And did e're Fame had spread thy vertues light, <br>Eclipse and fold thee up in endless night. <br>This like an act of envy not of grief <br>Might doubt thy bliss, and shake our own belief, <br>Whose studi'd wishes no proportion bear <br>With joyes which crown thee now in glories sphere. <br>Know then blest Soul! we for our selves not thee <br>Seal our woes dictate by this Elegie: <br>Wherein our tears united in one streame <br>Shall to succeeding times convey this theme, <br>Worth all mens pity who discern how rare <br>Such early growths of fame and goodness are. <br>Of these part must thy sexes loss bewail <br>Maim'd in her noblest Patterns through thy fail; <br>For 'twould require a double term of life <br>To match thee as a daughter or a wife: <br>Both which Northumberlands dear loss improve <br>And make his sorrow equal to his love. <br>The rest fall for our selves, who cast behind <br>Cannot yet reach the Peace which thou dost find; <br>But slowly follow thee in that dull stage <br>Which most untimely poasted hence thy age. <br>Thus like religious Pilgrims who designe <br>A short salute to their beloved Shrine, <br>Most sad and humble Votaries we come <br>To offer up our sighs upon thy Tomb, <br>And wet thy Marble with our dropping eyes <br>Which till the spring which feeds their current dries <br>Resolve each falling night and rising day <br>This mournfull homage at thy Grave to pay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+King">Henry King</a><div class=q>
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We sadly trace thy Coffin with our tears; 
And though the Ceremonious Rites are past 
Since thy fair body into earth was cast; 
Though all thy Hatchments into ragges are torne, 
Thy Funerall Robes and..."></div>
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