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The tender Age was pliant to command:;
Like Wax it yielded to the forming Hand:
True to th' Artificer, the labour'd Mind
With Eafe was pious, generous, just and kind;
Soft for Impreffion from the firft, prepar'd,
Till Virtue, with long Excrcife, grew hard;
With ev'ry Act confirm'd; and made, at last
So durable, as not to be effac'd,

It turn'd to Habit; and, from Vices free,
Goodnefs refolv'd into Neceffity.

Thus fix'd fhe Virtue's Image, that's her own,
Till the whole Mother in the Children fhone;
For that was their Perfection: She was fuch,
They never cou'd exprefs her Mind too much.
So unexhausted her Perfections were,

That, for more Children, fhe had more to fpare;
For Souls unborn, whom her untimely Death
Depriv'd of Bodies, and of mortal Breath;

And (cou'd they take th' Impreffions of her Mind)
Enough ftill left to fanctifie her Kind.

Then wonder not to fee this Soul extend
The Bounds, and feek fome other felf, a Friend:
As fwelling Seas to gentle Rivers glide,
To feek repofe, and empty out the Tide;
So this full Soul, in narrow Limits pent,
Unable to contain her, fought a Vent,
To iffue out, and in fome friendly Breaft
Discharge her Treasures, and fecurely reft..
T'unbofom all the Secrets of her Heart,
Take good Advice, but better to impart.
For 'tis the blifs of Friendship's holy State
To mix their Minds, and to communicate;
Though Bodies cannot, Souls can penetrate..
Fixt to her Choice; inviolably true;

And wifely chufing, for the chose but few.
Some the muft have; but in no one cou'd find
A Tally fitted for fo large a Mind.

The Souls of Friends, like Kings in Progress are Still in their own, though from the Palace far:

M

Thus her Friend's Heart her Country Dwelling was, A fweet Retirement to a courfer Place:

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Where Pomp and Ceremonies enter'd not;
Where Greatness was shut out, and Bus'ness well forget.
This is th' imperfect Draught; but short as far
As the true Height and Bignefs of a Star
Exceeds the Measures of th' Aftronomer.
She fhines above, we know, but in what place,
How near the Throne, and Heav'ns Imperial Face,
By our weak Opticks is but vainly gueft;
Distance and Altitude conceal the reft.

Tho' all these rare Endowments of the Mind
Were in a narrow Space of Life confin'd,
The Figure was with full Perfection crown'd;
Though not fo large an Orb, as truly round.

As when in Glory, through the publick Place,
The Spoils of conquer'd Nations were to pafs,
And but one Day for Triumph was allow'd,
The Conful was conftrain'd his Pomp to crowd
And fo the swift Proceffion hurry'd on,
That all, though not distinctly, might be shown ;
So, in the ftraiten'd Bounds of Life confin'd,
She gave but glimpses of her glorious Mind :
And Multitudes of Virtues pafs'd along;
Each preffing foremoft in the mighty Throng;.
Ambitious to be seen, and then make Room,
For greater Multitudes that were to come.
Yet unemploy'd no Minute flipt away;
Moments were precious in fo fhort a stay.
The hafte of Heav'n to have her was fo great,
That fome were fingle A&ts, though each compleat;
But ev'ry A&t food ready to repeat.

Her fellow Saints with bufie Care will look
For her bleft Name, in Fate's eternal Book:
And, pleas'd to be outdone, with Joy will fee
Numberless Virtues, endless Charity;

But more will wonder at fo fhort an Age;
To find a Blank beyond the thirti'th Pages

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And with a pious Fear begin to doubt
The Piece imperfect, and the rest torn out.
But 'twas her Saviour's time; and, cou'd there be
A Copy near th' Original, 'twas she.

As precious Gums are not for lasting Fire,
They but Perfume the Temple, and expire:
So was the foon exhal'd; and vanish'd hence;
A bort fweet Odour, of a vaft Expence.
She vanish'd, we can fcarcely fay the dy'd;
For but a Now, did Heav'n and Earth divide:
She pass'd ferenely with a fingle Breath,

This Moment perfect Health, the next was Death:
One Sigh, did her eternal Blifs affure;

So little Penance needs, when Souls are almost pure,
As gentle Dreams our waking Thoughts pursue;
Or, one Dream pass'd, we flide into a new;
(So close they follow, fuch wild Order keep,
We think our felves awake, and are asleep :)
So foftly Death fucceeded Life in her;

She did but dream of Heav'n, and the was there.
No Pains the fuffer'd, nor expir'd with Noife;.
Her Soul was whisper'd out with God's ftill Voice;
As an old Friend is beckon'd to a Feaft,
And treated like a long familiar Gueft;
He took her as he found; but found her fo,
As one in hourly Readiness to go.
Ev'n on that Day, in all her Trim prepar'd;.
As early Notice the from Heav'n had heard,
And fome descending Courtier, from above
Had giv'n her timely Warning to remove:
Or counsel'd her to drefs the nuptial Room;
For on that Night the Bridegroom was to come.
He kept his Hour, and found her where the lay
Cloath'd all in white, the Liv'ry of the Day:
Scarce had the finn'd, in Thought, or Word, or A&;
Unless Omiffions were to pafs for Fact:
That hardly Death a Confequence cou'd draw,
To make her liable to Nature's Law,

And that she dy’d we only have to show,
The mortal part of her the left below:
The reft (fo fmooth, so fuddenly the went)
Look'd like Translation, through the Firmament;
Or like the fiery Carr, on the third Errand fent.
O happy Soul! if thou canst view from high,
Where thou art all Intelligence, all Eye,
If looking up to God, or down to us,
Thou find'st, that any way be pervious,
Survey the Ruins of thy House, and fee
Thy widow'd, and thy Orphan Family;
Look on thy tender Pledges left behind:
And, if thou canft a vacant Minute find
From Heavenly Joys, that Interval afford
To thy fad Children, and thy mourning Lord.
See how they grieve, mistaken in their Love,
And shed a Beam of Comfort from above;
Give 'em, as much as mortal Eyes can bear,
A tranfient View of thy full Glories there;
That they with mod❜rate Sorrow may fuftain
And mollifie their Loffes, in thy Gain.

Or elfe divide the Grief, for fuch thou wert,
That shou'd not all Relations bear a part,
It were enough to break a single Heart.

Let this fuffice: Nor thou, great Saint, refufe
This humble Tribute of no vulgar Muse:
Who, not by Cares, or Wants, or Age depreft,
Stems a wild Deluge with a dauntless Breast:
And dares to fing thy Praises in a Clime
Where Vice triumphs, and Virtue is a Crime;
Where ev❜n to draw the Picture of thy Mind,
Is Satyr on the most of Human Kind:
Take it, while yet 'tis Praife; before my Rage,
Unfafely juft, break loose on this bad Age;
So bad, that thou thy felf hadit no Defence.
From Vice, but barely by departing hence!

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Be what, and where thou art: To with thy place, Were in the best, Presumption more than Grace.

Thy Reliques (fuch thy Works of Mercy are)
Have, in this Poem, been my holy care.
As Earth thy Body keeps, thy Soul the Sky,
So fhall this Verse preserve thy Memory;
For thou shalt make it live, because it fings of thee.

CH

RONDELAY.

By the fame Hand.

HLOE found Amyntas lying
All in Tears, upon the Plain;
Sighing to himself, and crying,
Wretched I, to love in vain!
Kifs me, Dear, before my dying;
Kifs me once, and ease my Pain!

II.

Sighing to himself, and crying
Wretched I, to love in vain :
Ever fcorning and denying

To reward your faithful Swain:
Kifs me, Dear, before my dying:
Kiss me once, and ease my pain!
III.

Ever fcorning, and denying

To reward your faithful Swain; Chloe, laughing at his crying,

Told him that he lov'd in vain: Kifs me, Dear, before my dying: Kifs me once, and ease my pain!

IV.

Chloe, laughing at his crying,
Told him that he lov'd in vain:
But repenting, and complying,
When he kiss'd, the kifs'd again:
Kifs'd him up, before his dying;
Kifs'd him up, and eas'd his pain.

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