University of Virginia Library

On the Death of the Young Lady I. S.

And is she gone? Unkind and Cruel Fate!
Thus to deny the best a longer date.
Old Age does your regardless Hand disdain,
Still begs to die, because't must live in pain:
Too partial Fate! the Noblest first decay,
And Youth the richest Spoil becomes your prey:
Curse on those Stars that did her Life surprize,
And drew the Curtains o'er her brighter Eyes,
Before she wrought, what Nature did design,
When at her Birth, Fate cry'd, the Work is mine.
Her Course scarce finish'd, but she's snatch'd away,
Yet so she sinish'd, that she liv'd each day:
Too great a Blessing, to last long, was giv'n,
Green in the Bud, and yet full ripe for Heav'n.
But to what height can I my Temper screw?
To pay, what to thy Life, what to thy Death, is due.
Grief clouds my sadder Mind, when it should be,
As free as unconcern'd, as calm as she.
So like a dying Swan she did expire,
The God's sent for Her to make up their Quire.