I ask it not for any thing in me,
Or any thing I am, that's not my plea;
But only what thou art, and what I find in thee.
Thou art my father, fource, original,
My friend, my spouse, my faviour, and my all.
I'm fprung from thee, a finall, a little ftream,
A faint resemblance, and a borrowed beam.
Yea, which is more, I'm honoured thus to be
Thy fon, thy darling, and a part of thee,
A never-fading and immortal ray,
A scene whereon thou wilt thy love display,
And act eternal pleasures in the feats of day:
A foul for whom thou left these orbs above,
Suffer'd, and dy'd, and all to gain my love.
My God, my God, O let thy pow'r divine
Conquer this vain this rebel heart of mine.
The world, the flesh, and Satan rage in me,
O break their force, and then triumphant be.
O fuff 'ring life of Christ, ye cruel pains and death
That crown'd the tragic scene, and stopt his breath;
Come triumph o'er my foul in every part,
Thro' all the hidden corners of my heart.
Kill, wound, destroy, let me a victim lye,
Martyr'd and flain with Christ, then panting dic:
Transform'd into his death, thus I'll receive
By death a nobler life than what I have.
JESUS, that heavenly life, that life divine,
Shall then deftroy and make this life decline,
This criminal infamous life of mine.
Then fhall my fpotlefs eagle-foul, fet free
From all its groffnefs and impurity,
Take wing and foar, and still purfue the flight,
Till it be loft and fwallowed up in light.
The INTRODUCTION to an Elegy. By the fame.
YOULD thefe pure fouls that once are wafted o'er
Thro' Earth's tempeftuous ftorms to yonder shore,
Look back and fee what paffions fill our mind,
When they fet fail and leave us here behind ;
How would they fmile to know what tears we shed,
What moans and fighs we vent for them when dead?
"Tis as if they who float along the main,
T'ofs'd and retofs'd, but can't the harbour gain,
Should pity thofe they faw blown fafely o'er,
Free from the ftorms, and caft upon the shore.
Well then, dear foul, fince death hath been to thee
But a foft eafy leap from mifery ;
A fweet remove from darkness, griefs and pain,
To endless joy and bliss, I fhan't complain.
No, I fhall mourn no more, that cruel death
Has cut the thread too soon and stopt thy breath.
Only allow me to fit by thy hearse,
And thus in fable weed, and mournful verse,
Employ that chrystal juice I should have wept for thee,
To write in briny tears this mournful elegy.
Ye fons of Earth, ye champions for vice,
That talk of virtue as an artifice,
Come here, and fee its power and beauties too,
And what its pure and native force can do.
Ye base degen'rate minds, whom hell cajoles,
To fink in sense and flesh your heav'n-born fouls;
Come learn to give your love fome nobler flights,
And tune your paffions to feraphic heights.
ye who talk, that virtue's force is small,
While we're inclos'd within this earthen ball;
Glance o'er these mournful notes, and they'll display
What heaven sometimes hath done when lodg'd in clay.
Two FRIENDS parting at DEATH. By the fame.
H! courteous death, one minute more allow,
Ah! ftop thy hand, and don't strike home the blow;
Or if my tears may not procure thy stay,
Then at one tug pull both our fouls away.
Like two fond turtles we on earth did live,
And fhall death part us now ? must I survive?
Ah no! ah no! I'll hold his parting foul,
I'll fuck it back, thy motions I'll controul.
With am'rous clafps I'll hug and grasp him fo,
I'll mix my foul with his, thou shalt not know
At whom to level thy vindictive blow.
Alas! it will not do. Ah! we must part,
Cold death begins to feize my throbbing heart.
The fatal minute's nigh, fain wou'd I stay;
But ah! my struggling foul is call'd away.
Strephon.
Relentless death! alas, what haft thou done,
To part us two, and leave me here alone!
He hath loos'd anchor, I ftand on the fhore,
And figh and groan, and call to waft me o'er.
But ah! thou wilt not hear!
What mean fuch moans? why do you court my stay?
Why thus retard and stop me on the way?
I haste, I haste, I mount and wing above,
To the bright fountain, the bright fource of love.
'Tis there we'll meet, 'tis there we shall entwine;
'Tis there our loving fouls fhall close combine;
And death fhall never more our loves disjoin.
Apaftoral ELEGY upon the death of LUCINDA, by way of dialogue betwixt CLORIS and SYLVIA.
ENEATH the covert of a lonely shade,
A place for tears and lamentation made,
The mournful Cloris lay and wept alone,
Helpless fhe wept, to all, but heav'n, unknown.
Fair Sylvia paft that way, and heard her cries,
Her melting groans, and her repeated fighs:
With foft compaȚion mov'd, ftreight she drew near
To view the mournful nymph that languish'd there ;
Surpriz'd she stood to fee her darling mate,
The lovely Cloris thus difconfolate;
Then with sweet smiles fhe lean'd upon her breast,
And thus effay'd to charm her foul to rest.
Why thus in tears, why thus diffolv'd with grief,
Eftrang'd from all that can afford relief?
Why wander'd from the plain these many days,
Your temples thus o'erfpread with fading bays;
While all the virgin-nymphs, in joyful throngs,
By yonder streams accent their rural fongs?
Their tender flocks with bleeting notes combine,
And pleasant birds in fofter warbles join ;
Thus harmoniz'd, without envy or strife,
They fweetly think away the cares of life.
How can you then, hid in this filent grove,
Still fhun their chaste embraces and their love!
Tell me, my dearest Cloris, let me know
What direful fhock of fate has made thee fo?
Cloris.
Lucinda's dead: ah! I can add no more,
The killing wound renews, augments my fore.
Sylvia.
Lucinda dead! alas, what do I hear!
What fatal voice is this that ftrikes my ear?
Lucinda, lovely nymph, yet cruel too,
Since you allow'd me not to die with you!
Hadft thou been kind, and told me of thy fate,
Our fouls fhould not have been long separate.
With close embrace we fhould have fo entwin'd,
As to appear but one compounded mind :
That envious death fhould not the diff'rence know,
But have transfix'd us both at the fame blow.
Weep on, dear Cloris, mourn, and mourning tell
The beauties of that nymph we lov'd fo well.
Cloris.
The theme's too high, my feeble strings in vain
Attempt fo lofty, fo advanc'd a strain:
Without, within, fuch heav'nly luftres fhine,
As prov'd her whole composure all divine.
Thole comely looks, foft fmiles, that charming grace,
And virgin-blufh which sparkled in her face;
That mild addrefs, chafte mien, and modest air,
Each wandering fweetness fcatt'red here and there
Thro' her fair mould, in all their bloom and art,
Were but faint emblems of that nobler part
Which lodg'd within, whose beauties were unknown,
Conceal'd from all, feen by the gods alone.
O yes! her foul fhone with a brighter flame,
Than all the charms of her external frame :
Urania's darling, fhe whofe purest fires
Enkindled in her breaft refin'd defires:
For by the goddefs led to filent groves,
She felt Elyfian joys, celeftial loves :
Those made her long for that exalted height,
Which is beyond the reach of mortal fight.
Hence fhe began to fly the noify plain,
And all its pure delights, as too profane,
These rural fongs, foft notes, and youthful joy,
Wherewith her fellow nymphs their pipes employ,
No longer had their wonted relish here,
Urania's name ftill charming in her ear.
And hence her foul was ftampt with charms divine,
Whofe fplendors, now unvail'd, no more decline,
But make the lovely nymph thro' all Elysium shine.
Gloris.
Yes, now the lives in those bleft seats of light,
Far rais'd above these gloomy fhades of night :
A bright attendant of Urania's train,
Advanc'd above all griefs, all tears, and pain.
Sylvia.
But ah! dear Cloris, fing how cruel death
At first began to stop her rofy breath :
Why time advanc'd with fuch a wingy speed,
To tell th' unwelcome news, Lucinda's dead!
Cloris.
Down by the banks of an impetuous flood,
Whole rifing waves infult the neighb'ring wood,
The lovely shepherdess travers'd the rocks,
In quest of her tray'd lambs and wand'ring flocks.
But as fhe try'd to wrestle up again,
The steep afcent her tender ancles strain.
From this flight wound, life did a-pace decay,
And the spent tide by little ebb'd away.
All means were try'd to stop th' invading fore,
But heav'n decreed that nothing fhould restore.
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