The Gratitude. My injur'd Love, thy Anthems cease awhile, And hear my Vows with an accepting Smile. By thee I swear, by thee as sacred now, I'll pay thee all the Passion that I owe. Forgive, that I so negligent did prove, Was such a careless Debtor to thy Love: As some wild Gallant who profusely spends That on his Frolicks, which should pay his Friends; Yet gives good Words, is complaisant and kind, And with small Presents shews his thankful Mind. So did I manage my vast stock of Love, Did neither just, nor yet ungrateful prove; Heaven knows, to pay thee all I had begun, But the neglected Score too far had run. Fatal Delay, for now the dreadful Sum, I with kind Horror offer at thy Tomb; What'er I ow'd thy Life, I'll pay thy Dust, Bring all th' Arrears of Passion, and be Just; Accept it now, altho alas too late, And pity this sad Pressure of my Fate. Thou wer't so pleas'd with what thou hadst below, 'Twould raise thy Bliss could'st thou my Passion know, That's great and lasting as thy Joys are now. Not the least Thought shall to ought else be given, I offer all to thee, and what retains thee, Heaven. Tho' at thy Death no sable Scenes of State, Nor solemn Pageantry did gild thy Fate; No pompous Griefs of a Mechanick Throng Of hir'd Mourners usher'd thee along; Nor gaudy Scutchion daub'd thy early Herse, Yet 'twas adorn'd with thy Clarinda's Verse: One moment's Grief of mine is of more Cost, Than a Majestick thirty Days can boast. Those pageant Sorrows on the Dead bestow'd, But touch the Fancy of the gazing Croud, Where scarce one Tear in earnest is allow'd. Amidst a thousand torturing Pangs I live, Too well I know, both who and how to grieve. It is more Honour to be mourn'd by me. Than all their stately dark Solemnity, Whose Riches purchase a forc'd Obsequey. Tho' on thy Grave no Statue I erect, Yet the smooth Stone shall with my Tears be deck'd. No, take a Tomb more fitting thy Desert, Yes, I'll inshrine thee in my generous Heart. So far for thee a Niobe I'm grown, That now 'tis fitting for that Use alone. No Monument more glorious or safe, Grac'd with a vital crimson Epitaph. My bleeding Heart shall this Inscription give, Not here you Lie, but here for ever Live.