WILLIAM DRUMMOND

��229. Her T as sing

'"THE beauty and the life

• Of life's and beauty's fairest paragon

O tears ! O grief! hung at a feeble thread To which pale Atropos had set her knife ;

The soul with many a groan

Had left each outward part, And now did take his last leave of the heart : Naught else did want, save death, ev'n to be dead ; When the afflicted band about her bed, Seeing so fair him come in lips, cheeks, eyes, Cried, ' Ah ! and can Death enter Paradise ? '

��230. Inexorable

Y thoughts hold mortal strife ; I do detest my life, And with lamenting cries Peace to my soul to bring Oft call that prince which here doth monarchise :

But he, grim-grinning King, Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprise, Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb, Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come.

��25 /. Change should I reed Change

��doth the sun appear, The mountains' snows decay, Crown'd with frail flowers forth comes the baby year. My soul, time posts away ;

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