By Callimachus

At morn we placed on his funeral bier
Young Melanippus; and, at eventide,
Unable to sustain a loss so dear,
By her own hand his blooming sister died.
Thus Aristippus mourn'd his noble race,
Annihilated by a double blow,
Nor son could hope nor daughter more to embrace
And all Cyrene sadden'd at his woe.

poem by William Cowper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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