Beg silent mercy from the following hounds;
At length, embost, he droops, drops down, and lies
Beneath the burthen of his bleeding wounds:
Ev’n so my gasping soul, dissolv’d in tears, &c.
Emb. 11. Book IV.
Mark how the widow’d turtle, having lost
The faithful partner of her loyal heart,
Stretches her feeble wings from coast to coast,
Hunts ev’ry path; thinks ev’ry shade doth part
Her absent love and her; at length, unsped,