Once more, hail, and farewell; farewell thou young, 24 But fate and gloomy night encompass thee around. II. AN ODE To the pious memory of the accomplished young Lady MRS. ANNE KILLIGREW, Excellent in the two sister-arts of Poesy and Painting. I. THOU youngest virgin-daughter of the Skies, Or, call'd to more superior bliss, Thou tread'st with seraphims the vast abyss ; Cease thy celestial song a little space; Thou wilt have time enough for hymns divine, 5 10 15 Hear, then, a mortal Muse thy praise rehearse But such as thy own voice did practise here, When thy first fruits of poesy were giv'n ; II. If by traduction came thy mind, A soul so charming from a stock so good; Was form'd, at first, with myriads more, 20 25 30 And was that Sappho last, which once it was before. Than was the beauteous frame she left behind : May we presume to say, that, at thy birth, New joy was sprung in heav'n, as well as here on earth. Volume III. P 40 For sure the milder planets did combine On thy auspicious horoscope to shine, And e'en the most malicious were in trine. Thy brother-angels at thy birth Strung each his lyre, and tun'd it high, 45 That all the people of the sky Might know a poetess was born on earth; And then, if ever, mortal ears Had heard the music of the spheres. And if no clust'ring swarm of bees On thy sweet mouth distill'd their golden dew, 'Twas that such vulgar miracles Heav'n had not leisure to renew; For all thy bless'd fraternity of love 50 [above. Solemniz'd there thy birth, and kept thy holy-day IV. O gracious God! how far have we Profan'd thy heav'nly gift of poesy? Made prostitute and profligate the Muse, (Nay, added fat pollutions of our own) T' increase the streaming ordures of the stage? 56 60 65 What Nature, Art, bold Fiction, e'er durst frame, 130 The scene then chang'd, with bold erected look, With such a peerless majesty she stands, 135 As in that day she took the crown from sacred hands; In beauty foremost, as in rank the Queen. 140 And her bright soul broke out on ev'ry side. What next she had design'd Heav'n only knows: To such immod'rate growth her conquest rose, That Fate alone its progress could oppose. 145 Not wit nor picty could Fate prevent ; To finish all the murder at a blow, 155 To sweep, at once, her life and beauty too; But, like a harden'd felon, took a pride To work more mischievously slow, And plunder'd first, and then destroy'd. A double sacrilege on things divine, 160 To rob the relic, and deface the shrine! Heav'n by the same disease did both translate: IX. Mean time her warlike brother on the seas 165 The winds too soon will waft thee here: Slack all thy sails, and fear to come, 170 Alas! thou know'st not thou art wreck'd at home? No more shalt thou behold thy sister's face, Thou hast already had her last embrace. |