OCCASION'D BY AN EPIGRAM ON A LADY WHO WEPT AT IT While maudlin Whigs deplor'd their Cato's Fate, Still with dry Eyes the Tory Celia sate, But while her Pride forbids her Tears to flow, The gushing Waters find a Vent below: Tho' secret, yet with copious Grief she mourns, Like twenty River-Gods with all their Urns. Let others screw their Hypocritick Face, She shews her Grief in a sincerer Place; There Nature reigns, and Passion void of Art, For that Road leads directly to the Heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VOYAGE A L'INFINI by WALTER CONRAD ARENSBERG A SERMON AT CLEVEDON; GOOD FRIDAY by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN DISCONTENTS IN DEVON by ROBERT HERRICK THE PHOENIX by ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON EASTER by CHARLOTTE LOUISE BERTLESEN THE JEW'S APPEAL TO THE CHRISTIAN by J. W. BLENCOWE JR. THE KILN by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |