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Companion,
My dearest Crew,
That me unkindly slew.
May your fault die,
And have no name
In books of fame;
Or let it lie
Forgotten now, as I.
We parted are
And now no more,
As heretofore,
By jocund Lar
Shall be familiar.
But though we sever,
My Crew shall see
That I will be
Here faithless never,
But love my Clipseby ever.
430. EMPIRES.
Empires of kings are now, and ever were,
As Sallust saith, coincident to fear.
431. FELICITY QUICK OF FLIGHT.
Every time seems short to be
That's measured by felicity;
But one half-hour that's made up here
With grief, seems longer than a year.
