Orinda upon Little Hector Philips

TWICE forty months of wedlock I did stay,

Then had my vows crown’d with a lovely boy,

And yet in forty days he dropt away,

O swift vicissitude of human joy.

I did but see him and he disappear’d,

I did but pluck the rose-bud and it fell,

A sorrow unforeseen and scarcely fear’d,

For ill can mortals their afflictions spell.

And now (sweet babe) what can my trembling heart

Suggest to right my doleful fate or thee,

Tears are my Muse and sorrow all my art,

So piercing groans must be thy elegy.

Thus whilst no eye is witness of my moan,

I grieve thy loss (Ah boy too dear to live)

And let the unconcerned world alone,

Who neither will, nor can refreshment give.

An off’ring too for thy sad tomb I have,

Too just a tribute to thy early hearse,

Receive these gasping numbers to thy grave,

The last of thy unhappy mother’s verse.