LOVE'S BURIAL-PLACE

Lady. If Love be dead —

Poet. And I aver it!

Lady. Tell me, Bard! where Love lies buried?

Poet. Love lies buried where‘ twas born:

Oh, gentle dame! think it no scorn

If, in my fancy, I presume

To call thy bosom poor Love's Tomb.

And on that tomb to read the line:—

‘ Here lies a Love that once seem'd mine,

But caught a chill, as I divine,

And died at length of a Decline.’