GLORIANA. A FUNERAL Pindarique Poem: Sacred to the BLESSED MEMORY Of that Ever-admir'd and most Excellent PRINCESS, Our late Gracious Soveraign LADY Queen MARY.
Written by T. D' URFEY.
TU Decus Omne tuis postquam te fata tulerunt,
Ipsa
Pales agros, atque Ipse reliquit
Apollo. Virg. Ecc. V.
LONDON, Printed for Samuel Briscoe, in Russel-street, in Covent-Garden. 1695. Price One Shilling.
TO HIS Illustrious Highness, WILLIAM Duke of Gloucester, &c.
This Funeral Pindarique POEM, Sacred to the Blessed MEMORY of that Ever▪ admir'd and most Excellent PRINCESS, Our late Soveraign LADY QUEEN MARY, Is, with all Duty, most Humbly Dedicated,
BY Your Highness's most Obedient And Devoted Servant, T. D'URFEY.
A FUNERAL Pindarique Poem.
The INTRODUCTION.
I That so often in soft Lyrick Strains,
Was us'd to please the mirthful Nymphs and Swains;
My Lute and Harp upon the Willows hung,
Like the sad
Iews, now tune my mournful Song.
Forc'd from Delight, and Musick's sprightly Joys,
In Grief's hoarse Voyce to chaunt sad Obsequies:
Oh! therefore Thou, who nobly canst inspire
A frozen
Genius with Poetick Fire;
Who
Pegasus a lofty Flight canst Wing,
And teach thy Bard of mighty Deaths to sing;
With thy best Influence my Brain refine,
And let my Thought be like the Theme Divine;
Heart-wounding Sorrow let my Verse infuse,
And in this Work assist me,
Sacred Muse.
I.
NOW from the Ruins of destroying Time,
And mouldring Flaws of craz'd Antiquity,
Had that fam'd
Hampton-Court first built by Cardinal
Wolsey.
Palace, which to fix his Praise,That Potent Prelate built in our VIII.
Henry's days,
Begun anew to be sublime,
And raise from falling State her glittring Turrets high:
Now had each thoughtful Head, and skilful Hand
Of the best Architects throughout the Land,
Obey'd their Soveraign Lady's dread Command,
With busie Industry to join
United Art, and make the Building fine.
And
Adam's truest Sons their Work had done;
So far excelling all in other Gardens shewn,
As if he there Himself had us'd his Primitive Spade,
And from his Maker had just learn'd the Trade.
Grotto's, to pass the Summer's scorching Hours;
Cool Walks, Ascents, Labyrinths of choicest Flowers;
With curious Fountains, ravishing the Eye,
With artificial Springs in sweet variety.
Nor was Art's chiefest Labour seen
Less, in the Rooms within,
Since
England's best of Beauties grac'd th'Apartment of the
Queen,
By
Kneller's famous Pencil, made t'enfold
Their Charms, as great
Vandike, or as
Apelles did of old:
[Page 3]And She herself in Splendor there
Divinely bright would oft appear,
The Influencer of the Spring, and Goddess of the Year.
When the unusual Rayes that shone
From the blest Window Rivalling the Sun,
Caus'd Reverend
Thames from his Green Oozy Bed,
To lift his dropping Head,
And make his Stream with a slow pace glide on,
Unwilling from that glorious sight to run;
Whilst wanton Billows dash'd the Wall's strong Side,
Proud to embrace each Marble there with a full swelling Tide:
II.
This Glorious Fabrick whose Renown
Had oft from each adjacent Town
Drawn Crowds, whose itching Curiosity
Prest daily on to see
Some new Additions made,
The Master-piece of every Trade;
Each Room contriv'd, each Office fashion'd right
For Use as well as Pleasure and Delight.
Products of nicest Wit, and more of
Royal Huswifry.
One fatal Day damn'd in the Book of Fate,
A Day henceforth horrid as that to come
When Sinners shall receive their dreadful doom,
And Nature crawls from its sad gloomy home,
[Page 4]Body'd anew, and form'd in second Birth,
From Ashes that a Thousand Years had lain confus'd in Earth.
The Sacred Writ of Resurrection to fulfil,
And God's Almighty Will
This Day had lent its fatal Light to more
Then usually came there to gaze before.
The
London Silks, mixt with the Country Friez,
Dull clouted Peasants throng'd like swarms of Bees;
All Sects, Distinctions, and Degrees,
Chattering their various Opinions loud;
With these too came a grumbling Crowd
Of envious Spies, the Sons of Shame,
Whose vile inveterate and inbred Hate,
Curst even each Wall, and every Gate,
Adorn'd with
Caesar's and bright
Gloriana's Name:
Their Faces all by Nature stigmatiz'd,
All ominous; each Look some future Ill advis'd:
So once when Glory sounded to Alarms,
And call'd hot-blooded Warriours to their Arms;
When Two great Hosts of equal Power
Were ready to engage, and Ruine to devour,
Flocks of portentous Crows did hovering wait
Upon the Butchery of Fate,
With Croaks proclaim'd th' expected Hour of Jubile,
To gorge upon the Feast of Death which quickly was to be.
III.
For lo, whilst on this happy Place,
With sullen Aspect, and Hearts void of Grace,
They cast around their envious Eyes,
Like Mizers on another's Golden Joyes;
Or
Satan, when he first saw Paradise,
A Trumpet loud was heard to sound,
Which echoing from the vaulted Ground,
Made known to each Spectator there,
The Royal Mistress of the Pile was near:
Scarce could they look but th' glittering Coach was seen,
Dazling all Eyes with its rich weight the
Queen.
Who came to view the pleasurable Seat,
Where she design'd in Summer her retreat;
And now the Buds that Frosty Winter aw'd,
Blest by her Beams, began to peep abroad;
The Earth felt genial heat, and every Flower
Sprung forth, to prove Her influencing Power:
Each Statue seem'd to bow its humble Head,
And as some new
Pigmalion had made
More Images, and did some God invoke
To give 'em Breath, and every one had spoke:
Such face of lively utterance had they,
Whilst every speaking Gesture seem'd to say,
[Page 6]
Enter bright Goddess here, and bless your Throne,
Fix'd now for Ages, enter to your own.
She did, and now there was no need to be
As in old Times, a Houshold Deity:
Defence more strongly was prepar'd,
She was the Mansion's Sacred Guard:
Her Eyes were
Lares and
Penates too,
That upon all around auspicious Blessings threw.
Then straight the bustling Train about her throng,
Watching each Nod or Accent of her Tongue.
The happy Creatures by her influence bred,
That daily on her Bounty fed,
With an officious Dilligence strove
T' express their Duty and their Love,
By entertaining her with talk
Of this or t'other Walk;
How Artful the Contrivance was, how Good:
Or from some Window where She stood,
Of such sweet Flowers, rarely seen,
This pleasant Tree, that pretty Green;
Whilst She, full of Humility's best Grace,
An easie Goodness shining in her Face,
Answers returns, so soft and free,
So far from Pride, or thought of Dignity,
As if all Speakers there were of the same Degree.
Each Word She spoke, like Magick charm'd,
And every Hearer's Bosom warm'd;
The glad Attendants list'ning'all stood by;
[Page 7]All bless'd jointly with silent Joy,
All basking in Her Gracious Beams, amongst the rest was I.
IV.
An humble Off-spring of
Apollo's Race,
I, fortunate, had in Her Eyes found Grace;
And to each sacred
Muse's Ear
The joyful News could bear,
That SHE
Not only was Goddess of Vertue, Clemency,
Of Beauty; but, what's more,
a Patroness of Poetry.
My Lyrick
Genius Honour'd with Her Praise,
My Tow'ring Thoughts so high did raise,
How poor to me seem'd Publick Fame! How wither'd look'd the Bays!
Dramatick Fancy too could cause,
From Her Angelick Courtesie, Applause,
When on the Stage at
Sancho's Comick Toil,
She graciously would condescend to smile:
And whilst Her Mirth did th' Crowding Court engage,
I, in my turn, laugh'd too, at the poor Snarler's of the Age.
Nor was Her Praise, like others, only Sound;
But with a full Hand back'd, and Royal Bounty crown'd,
Far more than my Ambition could desire,
Or my few Services require.
Hold here, my Muse; pull back thy Reins;
Let
Pegasus no longer here take pains,
[Page 8]Her numerous Vertues, or my Loss t'express;
Let those be storied in another place,
Whilst downward falling from this Mount of Joy,
Where thou hast long been Revelling so high,
And with exalted Fancy strove t'express
Great
Gloriana's, and in Hers, thy Happiness.
In Words of deepest Horrour now relate
The End of that sad Day, and all the Accidents of Fate.
V.
The Sun now posting to his wat'ry Bed,
The Evening was with gloomy Clouds o'er-spread,
The
Queen, that saw his Race was almost run,
In hast prepar'd too to be gone:
The Charioteer obeys, the Horses proudly Neigh.
And now, as if they knew
The Glorious Weight they drew,
With an unusual Swiftness cut the yielding Way:
I homewards too retir'd;
But found my self, alas! not now inspir'd
With any
Genius for Poetry,
Such as they on these Occasions us'd to be.
But ominous Melancholy press'd
My Spirits, and with strange Infection fill'd my Breast.
The Faculties and Orders of my Soul,
Thoughts sad as Death did now controul:
[Page 9]I hastned to my Bed, but could not rest,
Till with long Watching tir'd, a troubled Slumber eas'd
My weary'd Sense, or rather fatal Numbness seiz'd
My vital Parts all o'er, whilst to my Eye
In visionary Scenes was shewn this Prodigy.
VI.
A Royal Banquet in a spacious Place,
Hung round with Arras, figuring the Race
Of Gods, of Hero's, and of Kings,
And wondrous Stories of most wondrous Things,
Methought I saw prepar'd; at which, in State,
The Gracious
Gloriana sate;
Around her all the Nobles of the Land,
Those that bore Office and Command,
Place, or Dependance from the Crown,
With others also that had none.
In order were grave Heads that Miters wore,
Grandees that held White Rods, Judges in Robes with Furr;
And round the Hall on large Degrees rais'd high,
Another August Company,
The great Supporters of the Diadem,
And of the Nations Glory and Esteem.
The
English Commons sate,
Like the Disposers of Resolving Fate,
[Page 10]Who from the prying Crowd did Reverence draw,
By Looks with signs of Knowledge grac'd, and Legislative Awe.
Next these were mix'd a Number more
Promiscuously, that Office bore;
And each in's happy Station did reveal
The secret Joy his Heart did feel,
Down from the Pages that attend, up to the Potent Seal.
And now the tuneful Fancy's chief Delight,
Musick, made brisk the Pleasure of the Night:
Rare Comick Artists enter straight the Place,
Creatures of
Harlequin's diverting Race,
And skill'd in Gesture, Humour, and Grimace,
And to the Pleasure of the Feast.
Next these, to entertain the Royal Guest,
A Troop of Youths, all like
Adonis dress'd,
When
Venus first her warm Desire express'd,
A Bevy of sweet Virgins led to Dance,
Young, innocent, and fair,
As Nature's primitive Off-spring were.
An artful Measure newly taught from
France,
The Flutes and Hautboys proving still,
Their charming Notes and choicest Skill;
Action and Musick striving there to be
Best in their kind; yet to divert, agree.
And now sweet Air the Prize obtains, now mirthful mimick Buffoonry.
VII.
But whilst this Scene of General Joy
In ev'ry Face appear'd,
All bless'd with
Gloriana's gracious Eye,
Who, pleas'd with what she saw and heard,
With freedom gave her Satisfaction Vent,
And full of easie Goodness, shew'd her Pleasure and Content;
From the swoln Bosom of a gloomy Cloud,
A Thunder-Clap was heard so loud,
With such a frightful Sound,
As when the Mighty SAVIOUR dy'd,
The Sacred Temple did divide;
And Divine Vengeance rent the trembling Ground;
Amazing Horrour straight surpriz'd each Face,
Nor now could that Majestick Grace
That late in
Gloriana shon, appear;
For even She grew chang'd with Fear;
Her charming Face with deadly Pale o'er-cast,
Look'd like a beautious Flower struck with a withering Blast:
Then streight, methought, the Room was seen to cleave,
Rafters torn out, the tottering Building leave:
Whilst Eastward from the Sky,
A radiant Form descending, charm'd each Eye,
With Glories of immense Divinity.
[Page 12]Four Cherubs that on th' Angel came to wait,
Whose awful Looks a Power display'd, superiour to Fate,
Went up where
England's Guardian Regent sate,
Her seiz'd; then with their precious Load withdrew,
And thro' the wide expanding Air, to their Third Heaven flew:
Whilst
Uriel, for now might each one see
By his bright glittering Form and lucid Front, 'twas He;
One of the Glorious Seven that always stand
In sight of God's high Throne, on his Right-hand,
And to the Lower World still bears his dread Command;
With Sacred Voice thus spoke, whilst every stander by,
On the blest Orator fix'd an heedful Eye,
All charm'd with the Embassador, and thirsting all to hear his Embassy.
VIII.
Not yet, Oh sinful People, are your Crimes
Blotted from the Eternal's Memory;
The faults of past and present Times,
In the Omnipotent's all-seeing Eye,
Bear yet too fresh and deep a Dye,
To let his Justice grant ye true Felicity.
Instead of that your vile Offences are
Writ in so large a Scrowl, he must prepare
Severest Vengeance, greater far, and more
Then e'er yet scourg'd your stubborn Land, or
Egypt heretofore.
The Plague of Frogs, of Locusts, and of Lice,
[Page 13]Or Crystal Currents turn'd to Blood;
Where all the fetter'd Fish in vain devis'd,
With Finny Wings to scape the goary Mud,
Equals not half the Wrath to you is bent,
Not half the Curse, not half the Punishment.
Your
Queen, your Earthly Goddess here below,
To whose excelling Vertue you your Blessings owe;
Whose Smile, like the bright Ruler of the Day,
When he on Nature does his Beams display,
Made all things flourish, all things grow.
Your
Gloriana whom you so adore,
(Ah wretch'd beyond thought) shall bless your Eyes no more.
Thus has the angry Maker doom'd, and His Decree
Is thus pronounc'd by me;
The dear-lov'd
Genius of your Land shall die,
And pass thro' Nature to Eternity;
From Mortal Cares, Immortal Blessings prove,
And leave a fading Glory here for lasting Joys above.
But ah, even I must grieve to tell the rest,
E'er her bright Soul is dispossess'd,
Her Body must a dreadful Trial Taste,
And cruel and remorsless Fate,
Upon her Mortal part shew his extreamest Hate.
This spoke, the glittering Angel disappear'd;
And now methought was heard
A confuss'd horrid Noise
Of Shrieks, and Groans, and Cries;
[Page 14]The glorious Scene too chang'd, and in it's stead,
Infernal Night her blackest Fogs had spread
Over the baleful Place, dark as the Regions of the Dead.
IX.
Till by some Flashes of Aetherial Fire,
And fatal Fulgur glimmering Light was lent,
Which shew'd a Cavern where the Fates retire,
And where in dreadful Shades their horrid Hours are spent;
Around the Place were ugly shapes of Death,
Raw Skelletons; and all the Floor beneath
With heaps of Skulls and Bones was scatter'd o'er
Of Men that had been mighty heretofore,
Mingl'd with Scrolls of Human Names, spotted and stain'd with Gore;
Brought thither by a grisly Train,
Which for that Work the Sisters entertain;
Diseases call'd, a foul mishapen Crew,
That Thousands daily to Destruction drew;
And first with numerous Scrolls came
Feaver, witherd, lean,
His heart and Entrails scorch'd within,
With unseen Fire that long had flaming been.
Next him remorsless
Plague his Charge resign'd:
Swoln
Dropsie then with slow
Consumption joyn'd,
Their deadly Labels brought; more loyter'd too behind.
Chattring with one that stood, as I look'd back,
Attir'd in a Physicians Robe, but was, I found, a Quack:
[Page 15]In Physick or in Metaphysick Sence,
And only fam'd for lucky Impudence,
Proud, Drunken, Noisie, still unus'd to Cure,
Here therefore known to be
A nearer Favourite of the Fatal Three,
For practising the Art of Killing, sure.
But amongst all that on this Office came,
Death's Friends and Agents, Gouty, Blind, and Lame,
I saw, methought, one bring a Scroll,
That with new Terror fill'd my Soul,
A Scroll where in large Characters was
Gloriana's Name.
Trembling at this, I nearer prest,
And saw all full of Sores, his Head, Hands, Breast,
More foul and loathsome he than all the rest;
His odious Name
Small-Pox, whom when pleas'd
Clotho saw,
She streight a slender Thread was seen to draw.
Which envious
Lachesis soon on the Distaff put;
And
Atropos as soon prepar'd with bloody Shears to cut:
Then each with dismal yelling Voice,
And hellish Grin seem'd to rejoyce,
To know the World should lose such an inestimable Prize.
X.
'Twas here the Vision left my fetter'd Sence,
Here Fears anew 'gan to commence,
And Grief straight follow'd close; for scarce my Eyes
Had made their Opticks free from Sleep's surprize,
[Page 16]But to my Ears the Horror enter'd in
Of dreadful News, the Sickness of the
Queen;
And that a fatal Cold in her late Journey caught,
A terrible Distemper brought:
Too true 'twas found; for now each Hour, accurst,
Flew with more fatal Tidings than the first;
From bad to worse, till the Third dismal Day,
We heard the Life of our
Britannia lay,
The Prize of Death, just languishing away:
That darling Life more precious than the store
Of
India's Gemms, or universal Oar.
Oh Heaven! Maugre all our Tears,
Our fervent Wishes, and our Prayers,
The Skill which all the poring Sons of Art
With nicest Judgment could impart,
One ravenous Disease had power,
In a few Moments to devour,
And by Commission from Eternal Will,
Mock'd the Divines, and the Physicians Skill.
Thus when Omnipotence does Blessings give,
He thus asserts His High Prerogative;
When serv'd, bestows the Gifts we all partake;
And when his Grace we lose, he calls 'em back:
Wisely demonstrating Superiour Right,
The Creature's Merit, the Creator's Might.
But now, O Muse! how can thy Influence
So far inspire my Sense!
[Page 17]How shall my ill-performing Pen and Hand,
Describe the gushing Sorrows of the Land!
Paint
Europe's general Woe, and of that Woe the Chief,
Our
CAESAR's boundless and unequall'd Grief!
See on the Ground the Godlike Hero laid,
Struck with the Thunder of the Sound,
SHE's Dead!
That Royal Heart unus'd to fear,
When dreadful Danger was most near,
Like
Sampson, when he lost the Guardian Hair,
One Word has almost weaken'd to despair.
Now did his Eyes, whom Courage could inspire,
To gaze on th' dreadful Cannons Burst of Fire;
That Wars most horrid Face unfear'd could see,
And Friends and Kinsmen stain'd in Gore with Manly Bravery,
Melt into Showres of Tears, which in big Drops did fall,
Springing for
England's Loss, as well as Passion Conjugal.
Now the Majestick Purple that he wore,
Each Hour encreas'd his Sorrow more;
Which with the Train of Mourners that stood by,
Each with a frightful Look and wat'ry Eye,
Made the vast Deluge swell so universally,
That all around Grief so immense appears,
As if the World a modern way, were to be drown'd in Tears;
Our hapless Land, a Woe particular,
Beyond the rest of Nations did prefer;
And whilst new Seas of Brine surround our chalky Shore,
Albion was ne'er so true an Isle before.
XI.
Oh,
Albion! in Thy Loss more curst by far,
Than in all Ruines of thy Civil War!
Thy flourishing Soil's a barren Desart now,
Sad as thy Native's Weeds, and clowded as each Brow;
Bend thy aspiring Head, let Ashes crown
Thy haughty Front, and for past Crimes attone;
That like offending
Nineveh of old,
Dire Desolation by this Blow foretold,
May, by thy humble Sackcloth, be delay'd,
And Heav'ns consuming Vengeance by Repentance stay'd.
Ah! now my drooping Muse is at a stand,
My Pen shakes in my trembling Hand,
At my bold daring thus my Thoughts to raise,
On
Gloriana's Theme, or Praise,
Vertues that ne'er have equall'd been, nor will in future Days.
That Royal Virgin that so long maintain'd
The
English Cross, and with such Judgment Reign'd;
That Forty Years the Joys and Toyls of glorious Empire knew,
Ne'er such Applause or Adoration drew,
As Matchless
Gloriana in Her few.
That happy Princess Govern'd when
Obedience was a Gift in Men;
When mild Allegiance bow'd to Soveraign Awe,
And Duty was contiguous with Law.
[Page 19]But
Gloriana, when forc'd to put on
The weighty Trouble of a Crown,
For the Peoples Satisfaction, not her own,
In a hot Ferment found the State
Perplex'd with Factions, Jarring, and Debate;
And with sad Heart submits to Heav'n's Decree,
Tortur'd between Her Country's Cause, and filial Piety.
Yet still encourag'd by celestial Aid,
The Royal Shepherdess divinely sway'd,
Held out Her Crook, and the rude Herd obey'd,
And as the famous
Thracian Poet once
Drew to his Lyre Brutes, Birds, and Trees, and Stones;
So th' Savage
English by mild Arts she tam'd;
Some curst the Cause, but none the Conduct blam'd;
Her Foes her charming Grace so much had won,
The worst but faintly envy'd Her the Throne.
XII.
So
Hester, who her Nation's Rights restor'd,
For Piety and Wisdom was ador'd;
And so will
Gloriana's Name eterniz'd be,
Through future Years to all Posterity.
Who now, sad
Britain, can protect thy State
Like Her, from publick Feuds, and private Hate,
When
Caesar (tho' predestin'd Conquerour) goes
To meet our foreign Foes?
[Page 20]Who with a Look effectual as Law,
(As she still did) the stubborn Crowd can awe.
Yoke their rebellious Necks, and make 'em draw.
Or who like Her could e'er support
The Cares of State, the Management o'th' Court,
For Her dear Lord abroad, the fear,
And for her People's Safety here?
Ah, none! She was the only Last and Best;
The Saint is gone, and Miracles are ceas'd.
And well might She the Name of Saint deserve,
Who the Almighty did so truly serve:
Her regular Devotion ev'ry Day,
Might even teach Piety it self to Pray.
None could be wicked in Her Service blest,
Her Holy Flame divinely warm'd each Breast:
Example thus, the Good began, and Shame perform'd the rest.
Nor was Her Wife-like Vertue less admir'd,
But every Breast where Honour was, inspir'd;
So much, that even our sensual Nation,
Began their Brutal Crimes to see,
And honest Wedlock-Amity
Began again to be in fashion.
Thus all Her Hours did strict Goodness sway;
Angelically thus She spent each Day,
Thoughtless of Ill, unless 'twere to prevent;
Her mirthful Minutes too, so innocent,
[Page 21]As if a Life divine She meant to try,
Before She came to die,
And th' Great Disposer of Her Soul were alway standing by.
XIII.
For Pity too, and Heav'nly Charity,
None ever so renown'd as She;
So mildly th' Scales of Justice did Command,
And held the Sword in such a guiltless Hand,
That even the Malefactors of the Land,
In Murders train'd, and Traitors made for Hire;
Nay, tho' they durst against her precious Life conspire,
And thereby Punishment more justly drew,
Than th' rest of the incorrigible Crew,
She ne'er was found the more severe,
Nor ever Deaths Black Warrant sign'd, but wet it with a Tear.
Then, were that great Apostle here to see
(That preach'd Salvation, gain'd, by Works of Charity)
Her wondrous Mercies in that kind,
And the unweary'd Bounties of Her Mind,
Far above all the rest,
He'd soon pronounce Her blest,
And fix for her a Heavenly Seat next the most High Degree.
She needed but a small Translation there;
The Angel was more than half perfect here.
From their Abodes, for the dear sake of Heaven,
Forlorn, and starving in the Fields,
Her pitying Bosom sacred Manna yields.
In Numbers from the giving Angel they receiv'd,
And Numbers daily her blest Hand reliev'd.
Nay, even the Obstinate that ne'er would own
Allegiance, or Her Title to the Throne,
In spight of stubborn Nature forc'd have been
To grant, a Goodness so serene
Their better
Genius was, if not their
Queen.
O sacred Vertue! there is still in Thee
So sweet a Charm, such true Divinity,
That when Thou wilt unfold Thy beauteous Face,
And with Thy Beams frail Human Nature Grace:
How pall'd to Thee the World's best Pleasures are!
How sickly do they taste! How wretchedly appear!
Thou (Divine Essence) always didst inspire
Blest
Gloriana with Thy hallow'd Fire;
The Royal Saint was still a Type of Thee,
As Thou art of Angelick Piety.
XIV.
Mighty in Power, yet mild still as a Dove;
Not proud, yet Charming as the Queen of Love;
Chaste like Susanna,
and like Sheba
Wise;
Like Michol
kind and dutious to Her Lord;
And like a Saviour lost, lamented and ador'd.
More Attributes, much more might be exprest,
But Sorrow stops my Pen, and Sighs the rest;
My Muse grows weary with this Glut of Woe,
And now no more can do;
Only, methinks, I see from high
A radiant Cherub soaring through the Sky,
Saying, Let Women be no more defam'd,
Nor ever henceforth for past Frailty blam'd;
Th'unbounded Vertues of this
ONE,
Do amply for their Faults attone,
With the Eternal Compensation make,
And all the rest of Female kind are pardon'd for Her sake.
FINIS.