The mother to her daughter spake:
"Daughter," said she, "arise!
Thy daughter to her daughter take,
Whose daughter's daughter cries."
A Distich, according to Zwingler, on a Lady of the Dalburg Family who saw her descendants to the sixth generation.
A woman's work, grave sirs, is never done.
Poem spoken by Mr. Eusden at a Cambridge Commencement.[688:1]
Count that day lost whose low descending sun
Views from thy hand no worthy action done.[688:2]
Author unknown.[688:3]