By Callimachus
At morn we placed on his funeral bier
Young Melanippus; and, at eventide,
Unable to sustain a loss so dear,
By her own hand his blooming sister died.
Thus Aristippus mourn’d his noble race,
Annihilated by a double blow,
Nor son could hope nor daughter more to embrace
And all Cyrene sadden’d at his woe.
Other works by William Cowper...
Elegy IV. Anno Aet. 18. to my Tutor, Thomas Young, Chaplain of the English Merchants Resident at Hamburg (Translated From Milton)
Hence, my epistle—skim the Deep—f… Yon smooth expanse to the Teutoni… Haste—lest a friend should grieve… And the Gods grant that nothing t… I will myself invoke the King who…
