| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | VI. The Grave’s Triumph
Sonnet: ‘As, in a dusky and tempestuous night’ | | By William Drummond of Hawthornden (1585–1649) |
| | | AS, in a dusky and tempestuous night, | |
| A star is wont to spread her locks of gold, | |
| And while her pleasant rays abroad are roll’d, | |
| Some spiteful cloud doth rob us of her sight; | |
| Fair soul, in this black age so shin’d thou bright, | 5 |
| And made all eyes with wonder thee behold, | |
| Till ugly Death, depriving us of light, | |
| In his grim misty arms thee did enfold. | |
| Who more shall vaunt true beauty here to see? | |
| What hope doth more in any heart remain, | 10 |
| That such perfections shall his reason rein, | |
| If beauty, with thee born, too died with thee? | |
| World, plain no more of Love, nor count his harms; | |
| With his pale trophies Death hath hung his arms. | | | | |
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