Original - Duke Divinity School

O let thy terrors, and his anguish end!
Be thou his Father, and be thou his Friend:
Receive the Son Thou didst so long reprove,
Thou art the God of love.
Harry Martin’s Epitaph on Himself 206
Here, or elsewhere, (all’s one to you, to me)
Earth, Air, or Water, gripes my Ghostless Dust.
None knowing when brave Fire shall set it free;
Reader, if you an oft-tried Rule will trust,
You’ll gladly do and suffer what you must!
A Sigh 207
Gentlest Air, thou Breath of Lovers,
Vapour from a Secret Fire;
Which by Thee itself discovers,
Ever daring to aspire.
Softest Note of whisper’d Anguish,
Harmony’s refined Part,
Striking, while Thou seem’st to languish,
Full upon the List’ner’s Heart.
Softest Messenger of Passion,
Stealing thro’ a Crowd of Spies;
Which constrain the outward Fashion,
Close the Lips, and guard the Eyes.
Shapeless Sigh, we ne’er can show Thee,
Form’d but to assault the Ear;
Yet e’er to their Cost they know Thee,
Ev’ry Nymph may read Thee here.
206 “Harry Martin’s Epitaph,” by Himself, in Dryden, ed., Miscellany, 3:142.
207 “A Sigh,” in Dryden, ed., Miscellany, 3:189.
131