Yet think not that we rudely would invade The dark recess of thine untroubled shade, Or give disturbance to that happy peace, Which thou enjoy'st at full since thy release: Much less in sullen murmurs do complain Of His decree who took thee back again, And did, ere Fame had spread thy virtue's light, Eclipse and fold thee up in endless night. This, like an act of envy, not of grief, Might doubt thy bliss, and shake our own belief, 20 Whose studied wishes no proportion bear With joys which crown thee now in glory's sphere. Know then, blest Soul! we for ourselves, not thee, Seal our woe's dictate by this elegy: Wherein our tears, united in one stream, Shall to succeeding times convey this theme, Worth all men's pity, who discern, how rare Such early growths of fame and goodness are. Of these, part must thy sex's loss bewail, Maim'd in her noblest patterns through thy fail; 30 For 'twould require a double term of life To match thee as a daughter or a wife; Both which Northumberland's dear loss improve, And make his sorrow equal to his love. The rest fall for ourselves, who, cast behind, Cannot yet reach the peace which thou dost find; But slowly follow thee in that dull stage Which most untimely posted hence thy age. Thus, like religious pilgrims, who design A short salute to their beloved shrine, 40 Most sad and humble votaries we come, To offer up our sighs upon thy tomb, And wet thy marble with our dropping eyes, Which, till the spring which feeds their current dries, Resolve each falling night and rising day, This mournful homage at thy grave to pay. [_An Elegy._] The subject of this was Anne Percy, daughter of the Northumberland whose personal umbrage or lukewarm loyalty so grievously affected the Royal cause, and the wife of that Philip Lord Stanhope who afterwards, and after her death, seems to have flirted with Lady Elizabeth Howard before she married Dryden.] [Line: 28 early] Lady Stanhope was not twenty-one when she died, and had been married little more than two years.] Poems not included in the Edition of 1657 but added in reissue of 1664 _An Elegy upon my best friend, L. K. C._ [Countess of Leinster: died June 15, 1657.] Should we our sorrows in this method range, Oft as misfortune doth their subjects change, And to the sev'ral losses which befall, Pay diff'rent rites at ev'ry funeral; Like narrow springs, drain'd by dispersed streams, We must want tears to wail such various themes, And prove defective in Death's mournful laws, Not having words proportion'd to each cause.