As when fome great and gracious monarch dies,
Soft whispers, firft, and mournful murmurs rise
Among the fad attendants; then the found
Soon gathers voice, and spreads the news around,
Through town and country, till the dreadful blast
Is blown to diftant colonies at last;

Who, then, perhaps, were offering vows in vain,
For his long life, and for his happy reign:
So, flowly, by degrees, unwilling Fame
Did Matchlefs Eleonora's fate proclaim,
Till public as the lofs the news became.

The nation felt it in th' extremeft parts,
With eyes o'erflowing, and with bleeding hearts;
But moft the poor, whom daily fhe supply'd,
Beginning to be fuch but when she dy'd.
For, while the liv'd, they flept in peace by night,
Secure of bread as of returning light;
And with fuch firm dependence on the day,
That need grew pamper'd, and forgot to pray :
So fure the dole, fo ready at their call,
They stood prepar'd to fee the manna fall.

Such multitudes fhe fed, the cloath'd, she nurst, That the herself might fear her wanting first. Of her five talents, other five fhe made; Heaven, that had largely given, was largely paid: And in few lives, in wondrous few, we find A fortune better fitted to the mind. Nor did her alms from oftentation fall, Or proud defire of praise; the foul gave all : Unbrib'd it gave; or, if a bribe appear, No lefs than heaven; to heap huge treafures there. Want pafs'd for merit at her open door : Heaven faw, he fafely might increase his poor,

| And trust their fuftenance with her so well,
As not to be at charge of miracle.
None could be needy, whom she saw, or knew;
All in the compass of her sphere she drew:
He, who could touch her garment, was as sure,
As the firft Chriftians of th' apostles' cure.
The diftant heard, by fame, her pious deeds,
And laid her up for their extremest needs;
A future cordial for a fainting mind;
For, what was ne'er refus'd, all hop'd to find
Each in his turn: the rich might freely come,
As to a friend; but to the poor, 'twas home.
As to fome holy house th' afflicted came,
The hunger-ftarv'd, the naked, and the lame;
Want and difeafes fled before her name.
For zeal like her's her fervants were too flow;
She was the firft, where need requir'd, to go;
Herfelf the foundrefs and attendant too.

Sure the had guests fometimes to entertain, Guests in difguife, of her great Master's train : Her Lord himself might come, for aught we know;

Since in a fervant's form he liv'd below:
Beneath her roof he might be pleas'd to stay;
Or fome benighted angel, in his way,
Might ease his wings, and, feeing heaven appear
In its beft work of mercy, think it there:
Where all the deeds of charity and love
Were in as conftant method as above,
All carry'd on; all of a piece with theirs;
As free her alms, as diligent her cares;
As loud her praises, and as warm her prayers.

}

Yet was the not profufe; but fear'd to waste, And wifely manag'd, that the stock might last; That all might be fupply'd, and fhe not grieve, When crowds appear'd, she had not to relieve: Which to prevent, fhe still increas'd her store; Laid up, and fpar'd, that fhe might give the more. So Pharaoh, or fome greater king than he, Provided for the feventh neceffity;

Taught from above his magazines to frame;
That famine was prevented ere it came.

Thus Heaven, though all-fufficient, fhews a thrift
In his economy, and bounds his gift:
Creating, for our day, one fingle light;
And his reflection too fupplies the night;
Perhaps a thoufand other worlds, that lie
Remote from us, and latent in the sky,
Are lighten'd by his beams, and kindly nurst:
Of which our earthly dunghill is the worst

Now, as all virtues keep the middle line,
Yet fomewhat more to one extreme incline,
Such was her foul; abhorring avarice,
Bounteous, but almoft bounteous to a vice:
Had the given more, it had profufion been,
And turn'd th' excefs of goodness into fin.

Thefe virtues rais'd her fabric to the sky;
For that, which is next heaven, is charity.
But, as high turrets, for their airy steep,
Require foundations, in proportion deep;
And lofty cedars as far upward shoot,
As to the nether heavens they drive the root:
So low did her fecure foundation lie,
She was not humble, but humility.
Scarcely fhe knew that fhe was great, or fair,
Or wife, beyond what other women are,

Or, which is better, knew, but never durft compare;

For to be confclous of what all admire,
And not be vain, advances virtue higher.
But ftill fhe found, or rather thought the found,
Her own worth wanting, others to abound;
Afcrib'd above their due to every one,
Unjust and scanty to herself alone.

Such her devotion was, as might give rules
Of fpeculation to difputing schools,
And teach us equally the scales to hold
Betwixt the two extremes of hot and cold;
That pious heat may moderately prevail,

And we be warm'd, but not be fcorch'd with zeal.
Bufinefs might shorten, not disturb, her prayer;
Heaven has the best, if not the greater fhare.
An active life long oraifons forbids;
Yet ftill fhe pray'd, for ftill the pray'd by deeds.
Her every day was fabbath; only free
From hours of prayer, for hours of charity.
Such as the Jews from fervile toil releas'd;
Where works of mercy were a part of rest;
Such as bleft angels exercise above,
Vary'd with facred hymns and acts of love:
Such fabbaths as that one the now enjoys,
Ev'n that perpetual one, which the employs
(For fuch viciffitudes in heaven there are)
In praife alternate, and alternate prayer.
All this the practis'd here; that when fhe fprung,
Amidst the choirs, at the first fight she fung:

Sung, and was fung herself in angel's lays;
For, praising her, they did her Maker praise.
All offices of heaven fo well she knew,
Before the came, that nothing there was new:
And she was fo familiarly receiv'd,

As one returning, not as one arriv'd.

Muse, down again precipitate thy flight:
For how can mortal eyes sustain immortal light?
But as the fun in water we can bear,
Yet not the fun, but his reflexion there,

So let us view her, here, in what she was,
And take her image in this watery glass:
Yet look not every lineament to fee;
Some will be caft in fhades, and fome will be
So lamely drawn, you'll fcarcely know, 'tis fhe..
For where fuch various virtues we recite,
'Tis like the milky-way, all over bright,
But fown fo thick with stars, 'tis undistinguish'd
light.

Her virtue, not her virtues let us call;
For one heroic comprehends them all :
One, as a constellation is but one,
Though 'tis a train of stars, that rolling on,
Rife in their turn, and in the zodiac run:
Ever in motion; now 'tis faith afcends,
Now hope, now charity, that upward tends,
And downwards with diffufive good defcends.
As in perfumes compos'd with art and coft,
'Tis hard to fay what fcent is uppermost;
Nor this part musk or civet can we call,
Or amber, but a rich refult of all;

So fhe was all a fweet, whofe every part,
In due proportion mix'd, proclaim'd the Maker's

art.

No fingle virtue we could moft commend,
Whether the wife, the mother, or the friend;
For fhe was all, in that fupreme degree,
That as no one prevail'd, fo all was the.
The feveral parts lay hidden in the piece;
Th' occafion but exerted that, or this.

A wife as tender, and as true withal,
As the first woman was before her fall:
Made for the man, of whom fhe was a part;
Made, to attract his eyes, and keep his heart.
A fecond Eve, but by no crime accurst;
As beauteous, not as brittle as the first.
Had she been first, still Paradise had been,
And death had found no entrance by her fin.
So the not only had preferv'd from ill
Her fex and ours, but liv'd their pattern still.
Love and obedience to her lord fhe bore;
She much obey'd him, but the lov'd him more:
Not aw'd to duty by fuperior fway,

But taught by his indulgence to obey.
Thus we love God, as author of our good;
So fubjects love just kings, or so they should.
Nor was it with ingratitude return'd;
In equal fires the blifsful couple burn'd;
One joy poffefs'd them both, and in one grief(
they mourn'd.

His paffion ftill improv'd; he lov'd so fast,
As if he fear'd each day would be her laft.
Too true a prophet to forefee the fate
That should fo foon divide their happy state:

When he to heaven entirely must restore.
That love, that heart, where he went halves before.
Yet as the foul is all in every part,

So God and he might each have all her heart.
So had her children too; for charity
Was not more fruitful, or more kind than fhe:
Each under other by degrees they grew;
A goodly perfpective of diftant view.
Anchifes look'd not with fo pleas'd a face,
In numbering o'er his future Roman race,
And marshaling the heroes of his name,
As, in their order, next, to light they came.
Nor Cybele, with half fo kind an eye,
Survey'd her fons and daughters of the sky;
Proud, fhall! fay, of her immortal fruit?
As far as pride with heavenly minds may fuit.
Her pious love excell'd to all the bore;
New objects only multiply'd it more.
And as the chofen found the pearly grain
As much as every veffel could contain;
As in the blissful vision each shall share
As much of glory as his foul can bear;
So did the love, and fo difpenfe her care,
Her eldeft thus, by confequence, was best,
As longer cultivated than the rest.
The babe had all that infant care beguiles,
And early knew his mother in her fmiles:
But when dilated organs let in day
To the young foul, and gave it room to play,
At his firft aptnefs, the maternal love
Thofe rudiments of reafon did improve :
The tender age was pliant to command;
Like wax it yielded to the forming hand :
True to th' artificer, the labour'd mind
With eafe was pious, generous, just, and kind;
Soft for impreffion, from the first prepar'd,
Till virtue with long exercise grew hard:
With every act confirm'd, and made at last
So durable as not to be effac'd,

It turn'd to habit; and, from vices free,
Goodness refolv'd into neceflity.

Thus fix'd the virtue's image, that's her own,
Tili the whole mother in the children fhone;
For that was their perfection; fhe was fuch,
They never could exprefs her mind too much.
So unexhausted her perfections were,
That, for more children, she had more to spare;
For fouls unborn, whom her untimely death
Depriv'd of bodies, and of mortal breath;
And (could they take th' impreffions of her mind)
Enough ftill left to fanctify her kind.

Then wonder not to fee this foul extend The bouuds, and feek fome other felf, a friend: As fwelling feas to gentle rivers glide, To feek repofe, and empty out the tide ; So this full foul, in narrow limits pent, Unable to contain her, fought a vent, To iffue out, and in fome friendly breaft Difcharge her treasures, and fecurely reft: T'unbofom all the fecrets of her heart, Take good advice, but better to impart. For 'tis the bifs of friendship's holy state, To mix their minds, and to communicate; Though bodies cannot, fouls can penetrate :

Fixt to her choice, inviolably true,
And wifely choofing, for the chofe but few.
Some the must have; but in no one could find
A tally fitted for fo large a mind.

The fouls of friends like kings in progress are; Still in their own, though from the palace far: Thus her friend's heart her country dwelling was, A fweet retirement to a coarfer place; Where pomp and ceremonies enter'd not, Where greatness was shut out, and business well forgot.

This is th' imperfect draught; but short as far
As the true height and bignefs of a star
Exceeds the measures of th' aftronomer.
She fhines above, we know; but in what place,
How near the throne, and heaven's imperial face,
By our weak optics is but vainly guest;
Distance and altitude conceal the reft.
Though all these rare endowments of the mind
Were in a narrow space of life confin'd,
The figure was with full perfection crown'd;
Though not fo large an orb, as truly round.
As when in glory, through the public place,
The fpoils of conquer'd nations were to pass,
And but one day for triumph was allow'd,
The conful was conftrain'd his pomp to crowd;
And fo the swift proceffion hurry'd on,
That all, though not diftinctly, might be shewn :
So in the ftraiten'd bounds of life confin'd,
She gave but glimpfes of her glorious mind :
And multitudes of of virtues pafs'd along;
Each paffing foremost in the mighty throng,
Ambitious to be seen, and then make room
For greater multitudes that were to come.

Yet unemploy'd no minute flipt away;
Moments were precious in fo fhort a stay.
The hafte of heaven to have her was fo great,
That fome were fingle acts, though each com-
plete;

But every act ftood ready to repeat.

Her fellow-faints with bufy care will look For her bleft name in fate's eternal book; And, pleas'd to be outdone, with joy will fee Numberless virtues, endless charity : But more will wonder at fo fhort an age, To find a blank beyond the thirtieth page: And with a pious fear begin to doubt The piece imperfect, and the rest torn out. But 'twas her Saviour's time; and, could there be | A copy of th' original, 'twas she.

As precious gums are not for lafting fire,
They but perfume the temple, and expire:
So was the foon exhal'd, and vanish'd hence;
A fhort fweet odor, of a vast expence.
She vanish'd, we can fcarcely fay the dy'd;
For but a Now did heaven and earth divide:
She pass'd ferenely with a single breath;
This moment perfect health, the next was death :
One figh did her eternal blifs affure;

So little penance needs, when fouls are almost pure,
As gentle dreams our waking thoughts pursue;
Or, one dream pafs'd, we fide into a new;
So close they follow, Such wild order keep,
We think ourselves awake, and are asleep:

So foftly death fucceeded life in her:
She did but dream of heaven, and she was there.
No pains the fuffer'd, nor expir'd with noife;
Her foul was whisper'd out with God's ftill voice;
As an old friend is beckon'd to a feast,
And treated like a long familiar guest.
He took her as he found, but found her fo,
As one in hourly readiness to go:
Ev'n on that day, in all her trim prepar'd;
As early notice fhe from heaven had heard,
And fome defcending courier from above
Had given her timely warning to remove;
Or counsel'd her to drefs the nuptial room,
For on that night the bridegroom was to come.
He kept his hour, and found her where the lay
Cloath'd all in white, the livery of the day:
Scarce had she sinn'd in thought, or word, or act;
Unless omiffions were to pafs for fact:
That hardly death a confequence could draw,
To make her liable to nature's law.
And, that the dy'd, we only have to fhew
The mortal part of her the left below:
The reft, fo fmooth, fo fuddenly she went,
Look'd like tranflation through the firmament,
Or like the fiery car on the third errand fent.
O happy foul! if thou canst view from high,
Where thou art all intelligence, all eye,
If, looking up to God, or down to us,
Thou find'ft, that any way be pervious,
Survey the ruins of thy houfe, and fee
Thy widow'd and thy orphan family:
Look on thy tender pledges left behind;
And, if thou canft a vacant minute find

From heavenly joys, that interval afford
To thy fad children, and thy mourning lord.
See how they grieve, mistaking in their love,
And fhed a beam of comfort from above;
Give them, as much as mortal eyes can bear,
A tranfienr view of thy full glories there;
That they with moderate forrow may fuftain
And mollify their loffes in thy gain.
Or elfe divide the grief; for fuch thou wert,
That should not all relations bear a part,
It were enough to break a single heart.

Let this fuffice: nor thou, great faint, refuse
This humble tribute of no vulgar Mufe:
Who, not by cares, or wants, or age depreft,
Stems a wild deluge with a dauntless breast;
And dares to fing thy praifes in a clime
Where vice triumphs, and virtue is a crime;
Where ev'n to draw the picture of thy mind,
Is fatire on the most of human kind:
Take it, while yet 'tis praife; before my rage,
Unfafely juft, break loofe on this bad age;
So bad, that thou thyself hadft no defence
From vice, but barely by departing hence.

Be what and where thou art: to wish thy

place, Were, in the beft, prefumption more than grace. Thy relics (fuch thy works of mercy are) Have, in this poem, been my holy care. As earth thy body keeps, thy foul the sky, So fhall this verfe preferve thy memory; For thou shalt make it live, becaufe it fings of thee.

He wrung his hands, distracted with his care,
And fent his voice before him from afar.
Return, he cry'd, return, unhappy fwain,
The fpungy clouds are fill'd with gathering rain:
The promife of the day not only cross'd,
But ev'n the fpring, the spring itself, is lost.
Amyntas-oh-he could not speak the rest,
Nor needed, for prefaging Damon guess'd.
Equal with heaven young Damon lov'd the boy,
The boast of nature, both his parents' joy.
His graceful form revolving in his mind;
So great a genius, and a feul fo kind,

Gave fad affurance that his fears were true;
Too well the envy of the gods he knew:
For when their gifts too lavifhly are plac'd,
Soon they repent, and will not make them laft.
For fure it was too bountiful a dole,

The mother's features, and the father's foul.
Then thus he cry'd: the morn beipoke the news:
The morning did her cheerful light diffuse :
But fee how fuddenly fhe chang'd her face,
And brought on clouds aud rain, the day's dif-
grace;

Jut fuch, Amyntas, was thy promis'd race.
What charms adorn'd thy youth, where nature
ímil'd,

And more than man was given us in a child!
His infancy was ripe : a foul sublime
In years fo tender that prevented time:
Heaven gave him all at once; then fnatch'

The mother, lovely, though with grief opprest, Reclin'd his dying head upon her breast ; The mournful family ftood all around; One groan was heard, one universal found : All were in floods of tears and endless forrow drown'd.

So dire a fadness fat on every look,

Ev'n death repented he had given the stroke.
He griev'd his fatal work had been ordain'd,
But promis'd length of life to those who yet re-
main 'd.

The mother's and her eldest daughter's grace,
It feems, had brib'd him to prolong their space.

The father bore it with undaunted foul, Like one who durft his destiny controul: Yet with becoming grief he bore his part, Refign'd his fon, but not refign'd his heart. Patient as Job; and may he live to fee, Like him, a new increasing family!

DAMON.

Such is my wish, and fuch my prophefy. For yet, my friend, the beauteous mould remains Long may the exercife her fruitful pains! But, ah! with better hap, and bring a race More lafting, and endued with equal grace! Equal the may, but farther none can go: For he was all that was exact below.

MENALCAS:

Damon, behold yon breaking purple cloud; Hear'st thou not hymns and fongs divinely loud? There mounts Amyntas; the young cherubs play About their godlike mate, and fing him on his

way.

He cleaves the liquid air, behold he flies,
And every moment gains upon the skies.
The new-come gueft admires th' ætherial state,
The fapphire portal, and the golden gate;
And now admitted in the fhining throng,
He fhews the paffport which he brought along.
His paffport is his innocence and grace,
Well known to all the natives of the place.
Now fing, ye joyful angels, and admire [quire:
Your brother's voice that comes to mend your
Sing you, while endless tears our eyes bestow;
For like Amyntas none is left below.

He who could view the book of destiny,
And read whatever there was writ of thee,
O charming youth, in the first opening page,

So many graces in fo green an age,

Such wit, fuch modefty, fuch strength of mind,
A foul at once fo manly, and fo kind,
VOL. VI.

Would wonder, when he turn'd the volume o'er;
And after fome new leaves fhould find no more,
Nought but a blank remain, a dead void space,
A ftep of life that promis'd fuch a race.
We must not, dare not think, that heaven began
A child, and could not finish him a mag