I A GRIEV'D Countess, that ere long Must leave off her sweet-nois'd title; A griev'd Countess, that ere long 'Mongst the crowd for place may throng; In her hand that patent holding Which perforce she must bring in, Oft with moist eyes it beholding, Her complaint thus did begin. II 'Cruel monsters! do you know What a massacre y'have voted? Cruel monsters! do you know Th' harm you'll cause at one sad blow? Dukes, earls, marquises, how many! 'Las! how many a lord and knight, Without pity shown to any, You'll cut off through bloody spight! III Fond astrologers, away! You that talk o' th' sun's thick darkness; Fond astrologers, away! Y'are mistaken in the day. Sure you calculate not duly, Th' ephemerides else skips; On the twenty-fifth more truly Y'ought to place the great eclipse. IV Our dear-purchas'd honours then Will by foggy mists be clouded; Our dear-purchas'd honours then Will (alas!) ne'er shine again. All my hopes are, that those vapours Which extinguish now our light, Will put out too th' ancient tapers; Since I'm dark, would all were night!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CRYSTAL GAZER by SARA TEASDALE THE LADY POVERTY by ALICE MEYNELL THE BARREL-ORGAN by ALFRED NOYES FEELINGS OF A REPUBLICAN ON THE FALL OF BONAPARTE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY PRAIRIE MUSIC by NELLIE COOLEY ALDER OFF BARNEGAT by ETHEL LYNN BEERS A PITIFUL CASE by WILLIAM BLAKE |