Analysis of AN ELEGY Upon the immature loss of the most vertuous Lady Anne Rich
Henry King 1592 (Worminghall, Buckinghamshire) – 1669 (Chichester)
I envy not thy mortal triumphs, Death,
(Thou enemy to Vertue as to Breath)
Nor do I wonder much, nor yet complain
The weekly numbers by thy arrow slain.
The whole world is thy Factory, and we
Like traffick driven and retail'd by Thee:
And where the springs of life fill up so fast,
Some of the waters needs must run to waste.
It is confest, yet must our griefs dispute
That which thine own conclusion doth refute
Ere we begin. Hearken! for if thy ear
Be to thy throat proportion'd, thou canst hear.
Is there no order in the work of Fate?
Nor rule, but blindly to anticipate
Our growing seasons? or think'st thou 'tis just,
To sprinkle our fresh blossomes with thy dust,
Till by abortive funerals, thou bring
That to an Autumn Nature meant a Spring?
Is't not enough for thee that wither'd age
Lies the unpiti'd subject of thy rage;
But like an ugly Amorist, thy crest
Must be with spoyles of Youth and Beauty drest?
In other Camps, those which sate down to day
March first to morrow, and they longest stay
Who last came to the service: But in thine,
Onely confusion stands for discipline.
We fall in such promiscuous heaps, none can
Put any diff'rence 'twixt thy Rear or Van;
Since oft the youngest lead thy Files. For this
The grieved world here thy accuser is,
And I a Plaintiff, 'mongst those many ones
Who wet this Ladies Urn with zealous moanes;
As if her ashes quick'ning into years
Might be again embody'd by our tears
But all in vain; the moisture we bestow
Shall make assoon her curled Marble grow,
As render heat, or motion to that blood,
Which through her veins branch't like an azure flood;
Whose now still Current in the grave is lost,
Lock't up, and fetter'd by eternal frost.
Desist from hence, doting Astrology!
To search for hidden wonders in the sky;
Or from the concourse of malignant starres
Foretel diseases gen'ral as our warres:
What barren droughts, forerunners of lean dearth:
Threaten to starve the plenty of the earth:
What horrid forms of darkness must affright
The sickly world, hast'ning to that long night
Where it must end. If there no Portents are,
No black eclipses for the Kalendar,
Our times sad Annals will remembred be
Ith' loss of bright Northumberland and Thee:
Two Starres of Court, who in one fatal year
By most untimely set dropt from their Sphear.
Shee in the winter took her flight, and soon
As her perfections reach't the point of Noon,
Wrapt in a cloud, contracted her wisht stay
Unto the measure of a short-liv'd day.
But Thou in Summer, like an early Rose
By Deaths cold hand nipp'd as Thou didst disclose,
Took'st a long day to run that narrow stage,
Which in two gasping minutes summ'd thy age.
And, as the fading Rose, when the leaves shed
Lies in its native sweetness buried,
Thou in thy vertues bedded and inherst
Sleep'st with those odours thy pure fame disperst.
Where till that Rising Morn thou must remain,
In which thy wither'd flowres shall spring again.
And greater beauties thy wak't body vest
Then were at thy departure here possest.
So with full eyes we close thy vault. Content
(With what thy loss bequeaths us) to lament,
And make that use of thy griev'd funerall,
As of a Chrystall broken in the fall;
Whose pitti'd fractures gather'd up, and set,
May smaller Mirrours for Thy Sex beget;
There let them view themselves, untill they see
The end of all their glories shew'n in Thee.
Whil'st in the truth of this sad tribute, I
Thus strive to Canonize thy Memory.
Scheme | Text too long |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1101110101 110011111 1111011101 0101011101 0111110001 11100111 0101111111 1101011111 1111110101 1111010101 110111111 1111010111 1111000111 111101010 101010111111 1101011111 1101010011 1111010101 11101111101 10101111 1111010011 1111110101 0101111111 1111001101 1111010101 101011100 1101100111 110111111 1101011111 011110101 0101011101 1111011101 1101011011 110111101 1101010101 11101101 1101110111 11011111101 1111000111 11101010101 0111100100 1111010001 110110101 101011101 110110111 1011010101 110111011 0101111111 111111111 11010101 101110111 1111101 1111101101 1101011111 1001010101 101110111 1001100011 1001010111 1101011101 1111111101 11011111101 1011010111 0101011011 101101010 10111001 111111111 1111011101 0111011101 0101011101 101101011 1111111110 111111101 01111111 110110001 111010101 110111101 111101111 01111101101 1001111101 111101100 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 3,434 |
Words | 620 |
Sentences | 24 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 80 |
Lines Amount | 80 |
Letters per line (avg) | 34 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 2,691 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 618 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 3:14 min read
- 127 Views
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"AN ELEGY Upon the immature loss of the most vertuous Lady Anne Rich" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 6 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/17631/an-elegy-upon-the-immature-loss-of-the-most-vertuous-lady-anne-rich>.
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