L.A. Seneca the philosopher, his booke of consolation to Marcia. Translated into an English poem

Cap. 9

BUt it is naturall, when deare friends dye, To mourne I yeeld, if done with modesty; And not then only, but when urgent reason Requires their absence from us for a season; The firmest thoughts at parting will relent, And with a kind of griefe the same resent: But now opinion hath suggested more Then Nature ere requir'd of us before; Behold the passions of bruit beasts, how strong And violent they are, yet last not long. The Cow but for a time is heard to low, And Mares to neigh, and wander to and fro, Wild Beasts pursuing the vast Woods about The foot-steps of their young, to find them out, Doe oft review their spoiled Dens in rage, But in short time their wrath doth quite asswage. Birds haunt their empty nests in dolefull plight, Yet soone appeas'd, resume their wonted flight. No creature so bewailes his young ones losse, As man, who even nourisheth his crosse, Lamenting not according to the ill He feeleth, but according to his will. And that it may appeare thus to inthrall Our selves to griefe, not to be naturall; First, Women are more subject to such passions Than men, the wild and barbarous Nations More than the civill, th'ignorant and rude More than such as with learning are endu'd, Whilst Nature holds the selfe-same force in all, That which is various is not naturall: Fire burnes all people at all times alike Both men and women, irons force doth strike,

And cut all bodies of like mixture, why? Nature can never change her property. Want, losse of Children grievously affect This, or that man, whil'st some the same neglect: As custome and opinion make them seeme, More or lesse terrible, so men them deeme.