The fields to all their wonted tribute bear, To warm their little loves the birds complain; I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear, And weep the more because I weep in vain. Gray.Sonnet on Mr. West; quoted in Gilbert Wakefields Life of the Poet.
Weep no more, lady, weep no more, Thy sorrowe is in vaine; For violets pluckt, the sweetest showers Will neer make grow againe. Anonymous.1 Percy Reliques, Book II. Page 262. The Friar of Orders Grey; and see The Song of Consolation for the Survivors of the Dead, in Fletchers Queen of Corinth.
Your looks must alter as your subject does, From kind to fierce, from wanton to severe. (Or, as Pope has it, from grave to gay, from lively to severe:) For nature forms, and softens us within, And writes our fortunes changes in our face. Roscommon.Horace, Art of Poetry.