An ELEGIAC THOUGHT on Mrs. ANNE WARNER, who died of the Small-Pox, December 18, 1707, at One of the Clock in the Morning; a few Days after the Birth and Death of her firft Child.
WAKE, my Muse, range
And feek Vernera fled; With upward aim
Direct thy wing; for fhe was born from heaven,
Fulfill'd her vifit, and return'd on high.
The midnight watch of angels, that patrole
The British sky, have notic'd her ascent
Near the meridian star; pursue the track
To the bright confines of immortal day
And paradife, her home. Say, my Urania,
(For nothing fcapes thy fearch, nor canft thou mifs
So fair a fpirit) fay, beneath what shade
Of Amaranth, or chearful Ever-green,
She fits, recounting to her kindred-minds
Angelic or humane, her mortal toil
And travels through this howling wilderness;
By what divine protections fhe escap'd
Thofe deadly fnares when youth and Satan leagu'd
In combination to affail her virtue
(Snares fet to murder fouls); but heaven fecur'd The favourite nymph, and taught her victory.
Or does fhe feek, or has the found her babe
Amongst the infant-nation of the blest,
And clafp'd it to her foul, to fatiate there
The young maternal paffion, and abfolve
The unfulfill'd embrace? Thrice happy child!
That faw the light, and turn'd its eyes afide
From our dim regions to th' Eternal Sun,
And led the parent's way to glory! There
Thou art for ever hers, with powers enlarg'd
For love reciprocal and sweet converse.
Behold her ancestors (a pious race) Rang'd in fair order, at her fight rejoice And fing her welcome. She along their feats Gliding falutes them all with honours due Such as are paid in heaven: And last she finds A manfion fashion'd of diftinguish'd light, But vacant: "This" (with fure prefage she cries) "Awaits my father; when will he arrive? "How long, alas, how long!" (Then calls her mate) 56 Die, thou dear partner of my mortal cares,
“Die, and partake my bliss; we are for ever One.”
Ah me! where roves my fancy! What kind dreams Croud with fweet violence on my waking mind! Perhaps illufions all! Inform me, Mufe, Chufes fhe rather to retire apart
To recollect her diffipated powers,
And call her thoughts her own: fo lately freed
From earth's vain fcenes, gay vifits, gratulations,
From Hymen's hurrying and tumultuous joys,
And fears and pangs, fierce pangs that wrought her death.
Tell me on what fublimer theme the dwells
In contemplation, with unerring clue
Infinite truth purfuing. (When, my foul,
O when shall thy release from cumberous flesh
Pafs the great feal of heaven? What happy hour
Shall give thy thoughts a loose to foar and trace
The intellectual world? Divine delight!
Vernera's lov'd employ!) Perhaps the fings
To fome new golden harp th' Almighty deeds,
The names, the honours of her Saviour-God,
His cross, his grave, his victory, and his crown:
Oh could I imitate, th' exalted notes,
And mortal ears could bear them!.
Or lies fhe now before th' eternal throne
Proftrate in humble form, with deep devotion
O'erwhelm'd, and felf-abafement at the fight
Of the uncover'd Godhead face to face?
Seraphic crowns pay homage at his feet,
And Hers amongst them, not of dimmer ore,
Nor fet with meaner gems: But vain ambition,
And emulation vain, and fond conceit,
And pride for ever banish'd flies the place,
Curft pride, the drefs of hell. Tell me, Urania,
How her joys heighten, and her golden hours
Circle in love. O ftamp upon my foul
Some blissful image of the fair deceas'd
To call my paffions and my eyes afide
From the dear breathlefs clay, diftreffing fight!
I look and mourn and gaze with greedy view
Of melancholy fondness: Tears bedewing
That form fo late defir'd, fo late belov'd,
Now loathfome and unlovely. Bafe disease,
That leagu'd with nature's fharpeft pains, and fpoil'd
So fweet a ftructure! The impoisoning taint
O'erfpreads the building wrought with skill divine,
And ruins the rich temple to the dust!
Was this the countenance, where the world admir'd Features of wit and virtue? This the face
Where love triumph'd? and beauty on these cheeks,
As on a throne, beneath her radiant eyes
Was feated to advantage; mild, ferene,
Reflecting rofy light? So fits the fun
(Fair eye of heaven!) upon a crimson cloud
Near the horizon, and with gentle ray
Smiles lovely round the sky, till rifing fogs,
Portending night, with foul.and heavy wing.
Involve the golden star, and sink him down
Oppreft with darkness.-
On the DEATH of an Aged and Honoured Relative, Mrs. M. W. July 13, 1693.
I Know the kindred-mind. 'Tis fhe, 'tis the;
Among the heavenly forms I fee
The kindred-mind from fleshly bondage free;
O how unlike the thing was lately seen
Groaning and panting on the bed,
With ghaftly air, and languish'd head,
Life on this fide, there the dead,
While the delaying flesh lay fhivering between.
Long did the earthy house restrain
In toilfome flavery that ethereal guest;
Prifon'd her round in walls of pain,
And twisted cramps and aches with her chain;
Till by the weight of numerous days oppret
The earthy house began to reel,
The pillars trembled, and the building fell;
The captive foul became her own again:
Tir'd with the forrows and the cares,
A tedious train of fourfcore years,
The prisoner fmil'd to be releas'd,
She felt her fetters loofe, and mounted to her reft.
Gaze on, my foul, and let a perfect view
Paint her idea all anew;
Rafe out those melancholy fhapes of woe
That hang around the memory, and becloud it fo.
Come Fancy, come, with effences refin'd,
With youthful green, and spotlefs white;
Deep be the tincture, and the colours bright
T'exprefs the beauties of a naked mind.
Provide no glooms to form a shade;
All things above of vary'd light are made,
Nor can the heavenly piece require a mortal aid.
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