John Fletcher


Come, sorrow, come! bring all thy cries,
All thy laments, and all thy weeping eyes!
Burn out, you living monuments of woe!
Sad sullen griefs, now rise and overflow!
                Virtue is dead;
                      Oh, cruel fate!
                All youth is fled;
                      All our laments too late.

Oh, noble youth, to thy ne'er dying name,
Oh, happy youth, to thy still growing fame,
To thy long peace on earth, this sacred knell
Our last loves ring — farewell, farewell, farewell!
Go happy soul, to thy eternal birth!
And press his body lightly, gentle earth!

The Works of Beaumont and Fletcher.
George Darley, ed.
London: George Routledge and Sons, 1883. 712.


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