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Henry King - AThe Anniverse. AN ELEGY.
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So soon grown old! hast thou been six years dead? 
Poor earth, once by my Love inhabited! 
And must I live to calculate the time 
To which thy blooming youth could never climbe, 
But fell in the ascent! yet have not I 
Studi`d enough thy losses history. 
How happy were mankind if Death`s strict lawes 
Consum`d our lamentations like the cause! 
Or that our grief turning to dust might end 
With the dissolved body of a friend! 
But sacred Heaven! O how just thou art 
In stamping deaths impression on that heart 
Which through thy favours would grow insolent, 
Were it not physick`t by sharp discontent. 
If then it stand resolv`d in thy decree 
That still I must doom`d to a Desart be 
Sprung out of my lone thoughts, which know no path 
But what my own misfortune beaten hath: 
If thou wilt bind me living to a coarse, 
And I must slowly waste; I then of force 
Stoop to thy great appointment, and obey 
That will which nought avail me to gainsay. 
For whil`st in sorrowes Maze I wander on, 
I do but follow lifes vocation. 
Sure we were made to grieve: at our first birth 
With cries we took possession of the earth; 
And though the lucky man reputed be 
Fortunes adopted son, yet onely he 
Is Natures true born child, who summes his years 
(Like me) with no Arithmetick but tears.
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