In misery's darkest cavern known,

His useful care was ever nigh

Where hopeless anguish pour'd his groan,

And lonely want retir'd to die.

Samuel Johnson (1709-1784): Verses on the Death of Mr. Robert Levet. Stanza 5.

He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,

Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iv. Stanza 179.

To each his suff'rings; all are men,

Condemn'd alike to groan,—

The tender for another's pain,

Th' unfeeling for his own.

Yet ah! why should they know their fate,

Since sorrow never comes too late,

And happiness too swiftly flies?

Thought would destroy their paradise.

No more; where ignorance is bliss,

'T is folly to be wise.

Thomas Gray (1716-1771): On a Distant Prospect of Eton College. Stanza 10.

Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan,

Sorrow calls no time that's gone;

Violets plucked, the sweetest rain

Makes not fresh nor grow again.

John Fletcher (1576-1625): The Queen of Corinth. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Come to the bridal chamber, Death!

Come to the mother's, when she feels

For the first time her first-born's breath!

Come when the blessed seals

That close the pestilence are broke,

And crowded cities wail its stroke!

Come in consumption's ghastly form,

The earthquake shock, the ocean storm!

Come when the heart beats high and warm,

With banquet song, and dance, and wine!

And thou art terrible!—the tear,

The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier,

And all we know or dream or fear

Of agony are thine.

Alfred Bunn (1790-1860): Marco Bozzaris.