What Nature, Art, bold Fiction e'er durft frame,
Her forming Hand gave Feature to the Name.
So ftrange a Concourse ne'er was seen before,
But when the peopl'd Ark the whole Creation bore.
VII.
The Scene then chang'd, with bold erected Look
Our Martial King the fight with Rev'rence ftrook :
For not content t' express his outward Part,
Her Hand call'd out the Image of his Heart:
His warlike Mind, his Soul devoid of Fear,
His High-defigning Thoughts were figur'd there,
As when, by Magick, Ghofts are made appear.
Our Phenix Queen was pourtray'd too fo bright,
Beauty alone cou'd Beauty take so right:
Her Dress, her Shape, her matchless Grace,
Were all obferv'd, as well as Heav'nly Face.
With fuch a Peerless Majesty she stands,
As in that Day she took the Crown from facred Hands:
Before a Train of Heroines was seen,
In Beauty foremost, as in Rank, the Queen.
Thus nothing to her Genius was deny'd,
But like a Ball of Fire the further thrown,
Still with a greater Blaze she shone,
And her bright Soul broke out on ev'ry fide.
What next she had defign'd, Heaven only knows :
To fuch Immod'rate Growth her Conqueft rofe,
That Fate alone its Progrefs cou'd oppose.
Now all thofe Charms, that blooming Grace,
The well-proportion'd Shape, and beauteous Face,
Shall never more be feen by Mortal Eyes;
In Earth the much-lamented Virgin lies.
Not Wit, nor Piety cou'd Fate prevent;
Nor was the cruel Destiny content
To finish all the Murder at a blow,
To sweep at once her Life, and Beauty too;
But, like a harden'd Felon, took a pride
To work more mischievously flow,
And plunder'd first, and then destroy'd.
O double Sacrilege on things Divine,
To rob the Relick, and deface the Shrine!
But thus Orinda dy'd :
Heaven, by the fame Disease, did both tranflate;
As equal were their Souls, fo equal was their Fate.
IX.
Mean-time her Warlike Brother on the Seas
His waving Streamers to the Winds displays,
And Vows for his Return, with vain Devotion, pays.
Ah Generous Youth, that Wish forbear,
The Winds too foon will waft thee here!
Slack all thy Sails, and fear to come,
Alas, thou know'ft not, thou art wreck'd at home!
No more fhalt thou behold thy Sifter's Face,
Thou haft already had her laft Embrace.
But look aloft, and if thou ken'ft from far
Among the Pleiads a New-kindled Star,
If any Sparkles, than the rest more bright
'Tis the that fhines in that propitious Light
When in mid-Air the Golden Trump fhall found,
To raise the Nations under Ground;
When, in the Valley of Jehoshaphat,
The Judging God fhall close the Book of Fate;
And there the laft Affizes keep,
For those who Wake, and those who Sleep :
When rattling Bones together fly,
From the four Corners of the Sky;
When Sinews o'er the Skeletons are spread,
Those cloth'd with Flesh, and Life infpires the Dead;
The Sacred Poets firft fhall hear the Sound,
And foremost from the Tomb shall bound,
For they are cover'd with the lightest Ground;
And ftraight, with in-born Vigour, on the Wing,
Like mounting Larks, to the New Morning fing.
There Thou, fweet Saint, before the Quire fhall go,
As Harbinger of Heaven, the Way to show,
The Way which thou fo well haft learnt below.
On the Death of AM YN TAS: A Paftoral ELEGY.
Was on a Joyless and a Gloomy Morn,
Wet was the Grafs, and hung with Pearls the When Damon, who defign'd to pass the Day [Thorn; With Hounds and Horns, and chase the flying Prey, Rofe early from his Bed; but foon he found The Welkin pitch'd with fullen Clouds around, An Eastern Wind, and Dew upon the Ground. Thus while he ftood, and fighing did furvey The Fields, and curft th' ill Omens of the Day, He faw Menalcas come with heavy pace ; Wet were his Eyes, and chearless was his Face: He wrung his Hands, distracted with his Care, And fent his Voice before him from afar. Return, he cry'd, return, unhappy Swain, The fpungy Clouds are fill'd with gath'ring Rain : The Promife of the Day not only cross'd, But e'en the Spring, the Spring it felf is loft. Amyntas-Oh! he cou'd not speak the reft, Nor needed, for prefaging Damon guess'd.
Equal with Heav'n young Damon lov'd the Boy,
The boaft of Nature, both his Parents Joy.
His graceful Form revolving in his Mind;
So great a Genius, and a Soul fo kind,
Gave fad affurance that his Fears were true ;
Too well the Envy of the Gods he knew :
For when their Gifts too lavishly are plac'd,
Soon they repent, and will not make them last.
For fure it was too bountiful a Dole,
The Mother's Features, and the Father's Soul.
Then thus he cry'd: The Morn bespoke the News:
The Morning did her chearful Light diffuse;
But fee how suddenly she chang'd her Face, [grace;
And brought on Clouds and Rain, the Day's Dif-
Juft fuch, Amyntas, was thy promis'd Race.
What Charms adorn'd thy Youth, where Nature smil'd,
And more than Man was giv'n us in a Child !
His Infancy was ripe: a Soul fublime
In Years fo tender that prevented time :
Heav'n gave him all at once; then snatch'd away,
Ere Mortals all his Beauties cou'd furvey:
Juft like the Flow'r that buds and withers in a Day.
MENAL CAS.
The Mother, Lovely, tho' with Grief oppreft,
Reclin'd his dying Head upon her Breast.
The mournful Family ftood all around;
One Groan was heard, one univerfal Sound :
All were in Floods of Tears and endless Sorrow
So dire a Sadness fat on ev'ry Look,
E'en Death repented he had giv'n the Stroke.
He griev'd his fatal Work had been ordain'd,
But promis'd length of Life to those who yet remain'd.
The Mother's and her Eldeft Daughter's Grace,
It seems, had brib'd him to prolong their space.
E The Father bore it with undaunted Soul,
Like one who durft his Destiny controul :
Yet with becoming Grief he bore his part,
Refign'd his Son, but not refign'd his Heart.
Patient as Job; and may he live to fee,
Like him, a new increafing Family!
Such is my Wish, and fuch my Prophesy.
For yet, my Friend, the Beauteous Mould remains ;
Long may fhe exercife her fruitful Pains!
But, ah! with better hap, and bring a Race
More lafting, and endu'd with equal Grace!
Equal fhe may, but farther none can go :
For he was all that was exact below.
MENAL CAS.
Damon, behold yon breaking Purple Cloud;
Hear'st thou not Hymns and Songs Divinely loud?
There mounts Amyntas; the young Cherubs play
About their Godlike Mate, and Sing him on his way.
He cleaves the liquid Air, behold he flies,
And every Moment gains upon the Skies.
The new come Guest admires th' Ætherial State,
The Saphir Portal, and the Golden Gate ;
And now admitted in the fhining Throng,
He shows the Passport which he brought along.
His Pafsport is his Innocence and Grace,
Well known to all the Natives of the Place.
Now Sing, ye joyful Angels, and admire
Your Brother's Voice that comes to mend your Quire:
Sing you, while endless Tears our Eyes bestow;
For like Amyntas none is left below.
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