25117511751"Daughter, dear daughter," old Lucretius cries,

17521752"That life was mine which thou hast here deprived.

17531753If in the child the father's image lies,

17541754Where shall I live now Lucrece is unlived?

17551755Thou wast not to this end from me derived.

17561756If children predecease progenitors,

17571757We are their offspring, and they none of ours."

25217581758"Poor broken glass, I often did behold

17591759In thy sweet semblance my old age new born;

17601760But now that fair fresh mirror, dim and old,

17611761Shows me a bare-boned death by time outworn.

17621762O, from thy cheeks my image thou hast torn,

17631763And shivered all the beauty of my glass,

17641764That I no more can see what once I was."

25317651765"O time, cease thou thy course and last no longer,

17661766If they surcease to be that should survive.

17671767Shall rotten death make conquest of the stronger

17681768And leave the falt'ring feeble souls alive?

17691769The old bees die, the young possess their hive.

17701770Then live, sweet Lucrece, live again and see

17711771Thy father die, and not thy father thee."

25417721772By this starts Collatine as from a dream,

17731773And bids Lucretius give his sorrow place;

17741774And then in key-cold Lucrece' bleeding stream

17751775He falls and bathes the pale fear in his face

17761776And counterfeits to die with her a space,

17771777Till manly shame bids him possess his breath

17781778And live to be revengèd on her death.

25517791779The deep vexation of his inward soul

17801780Hath served a dumb arrest upon his tongue,

17811781Who, mad that sorrow should his use control,

17821782Or keep him from heart-easing words so long,

17831783Begins to talk; but through his lips do throng

17841784Weak words, so thick come in his poor heart's aid

17851785That no man could distinguish what he said.