At morn we placed on his funeral bier <br />Young Melanippus; and, at eventide, <br />Unable to sustain a loss so dear, <br />By her own hand his blooming sister died. <br />Thus Aristippus mourn'd his noble race, <br />Annihilated by a double blow, <br />Nor son could hope nor daughter more to embrace <br />And all Cyrene sadden'd at his woe.<br /><br />William Cowper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/by-callimachus/
