sia.
Parting, October, 1661, at London:

"Adieu, dear object of my love's excess,
And with thee all my hopes of happiness.
I to resign thy dear converse submit,
Since I can neither keep nor merit it:
I ask no inconvenient kindness now,
To move thy passion or to cloud thy brow;
And thou wilt satisfy my boldest plea
By some few soft remembrances of me.

The lines may remind one of the pathetic sentiment expressed almost
two hundred years later by a kindred heart. Eugenie de Guerin says,
"In the moment of union, the seed of separation is sown. Cruel
illusion, the belief in friendships that are eternal. The knowledge
is bitter, but let me learn the lesson." Yes: learn the lesson
indeed, so far as it is true; but do not exaggerate it, nor let it
cast too wide and dense a shadow over the rest of life.

Elizabeth Rowe seems to have had a heart peculiarly alive to tender
attachments. And she was happy in winning and retaining many friends.
Her superiors, her equals, her servants, all loved her as one of the
best of women. Her "Friendship in Death, in Twenty Letters from the
Dead to the Living," enjoyed great celebrity in its day. The
beautiful Countess Hertford was her enthusiastic friend. She
exchanged many visits with her, again and again leaving her own
stately mansion to abide in the humble house of her admired friend;
and she sacredly cherished her memory after death had parted them.
Thomson, in the original form of his "Hymn to Solitude," celebrated
these friends as "Philomela and the gentle-looking Hertford." Lady
Hertford had so affectionate a heart, so rich a mind, so gracious a
mien, and was so tenacious in her fondnesses, that she captivated the
souls of many of her contemporaries. She was the patron of Thomson,
who, in some exquisite lines, dedicated his "Spring" to her. She
rewarded the young Elizabeth Carter for a poem in honor of Mrs. Rowe,
with her steadfast love and her correspondence. But her most
important friendship was that with the Countess of Pomfret. This ran
through the largest part of her life, was a source of the greatest
comfort and edification to them both, and has left a monument of its
unwavering sincerity and fullness in the long series of their
published letters.

Mrs. Montague's passion for friendships led her to form intimacies
with many of the most distinguished persons of her time, both men and
women. When she was Elizabeth Robinson, at the age of twelve she
exchanged her doll for a