The Works of Mr. John Oldham Together with his Remains |
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To Madam L. E. upon her Recovery from a late Sickness.
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 | The Works of Mr. John Oldham |  |
To Madam L. E. upon her Recovery from a late Sickness.
Madam,
Pardon, that with slow Gladness we so late
Your wish'd return of Health congratulate:
Our Joys at first so throng'd to get abroad,
They hinder'd one another in the crowd;
And now such haste to tell their Message make,
They only stammer what they meant to speak.
Your wish'd return of Health congratulate:
Our Joys at first so throng'd to get abroad,
They hinder'd one another in the crowd;
And now such haste to tell their Message make,
They only stammer what they meant to speak.
You the fair Subject which I am to sing,
To whose kind Hands this humble joy I bring:
Aid me, I beg, while I this Theme pursue,
For I invoke no other Muse but you.
To whose kind Hands this humble joy I bring:
Aid me, I beg, while I this Theme pursue,
For I invoke no other Muse but you.
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Long time had you here brightly shone below
With all the Rays kind Heaven could bestow.
No envious Cloud e're offer'd to invade
Your Lustre, or compel it to a Shade:
Nor did it yet by any Sign appear,
But that you thoroughout Immortal were.
Till Heaven (if Heaven could prove so cruel) sent
To interrupt the Growth of your content.
As if it grudg'd those Gifts you did enjoy,
And would that Bounty which it gave, destroy:
'Twas since your Excellence did envy move
In those high Powers and made them jealous prove.
They thought these Glories should they still have shin'd
Unsullied, were too much for Woman-kind.
Which might they write as lasting, as they're Fair,
Too great for ought, but Deities appear:
But Heaven (it may be) was not yet compleat,
And lackt you there to fill your empty Seat.
And when it could not fairly woo you hence,
Turn'd Ravisher, and offer'd Violence.
With all the Rays kind Heaven could bestow.
No envious Cloud e're offer'd to invade
Your Lustre, or compel it to a Shade:
Nor did it yet by any Sign appear,
But that you thoroughout Immortal were.
Till Heaven (if Heaven could prove so cruel) sent
To interrupt the Growth of your content.
As if it grudg'd those Gifts you did enjoy,
And would that Bounty which it gave, destroy:
'Twas since your Excellence did envy move
In those high Powers and made them jealous prove.
They thought these Glories should they still have shin'd
Unsullied, were too much for Woman-kind.
Which might they write as lasting, as they're Fair,
Too great for ought, but Deities appear:
But Heaven (it may be) was not yet compleat,
And lackt you there to fill your empty Seat.
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Turn'd Ravisher, and offer'd Violence.
Sickness did first a formal siege begin,
And by sure slowness tryed your Life to win.
As if by lingring methods Heaven meant
To chase you hence and tire you to consent.
But, this in vain, Fate did to force resort,
And next by Storm shove to attack the fort.
A Sleep, dull as your last, did you Arrest,
And all there Magazines of life possest.
No more the Blood its circling course did run,
But in the veins, like Isicles, it hung.
No more the Heart (now void of quickning heat)
The tuneful March of vital Motion beat.
Stiffness did into all the Sinews climb,
And a short Death crept cold through every Limb.
All Signs of Life from sight so far withdrew,
'Twas now thought Popery to pray for you.
And by sure slowness tryed your Life to win.
As if by lingring methods Heaven meant
To chase you hence and tire you to consent.
But, this in vain, Fate did to force resort,
And next by Storm shove to attack the fort.
A Sleep, dull as your last, did you Arrest,
And all there Magazines of life possest.
No more the Blood its circling course did run,
But in the veins, like Isicles, it hung.
No more the Heart (now void of quickning heat)
The tuneful March of vital Motion beat.
Stiffness did into all the Sinews climb,
And a short Death crept cold through every Limb.
All Signs of Life from sight so far withdrew,
'Twas now thought Popery to pray for you.
25
There might you (were not that sense lost) have seen
How your true Death would have resented been:
A Lethargy, like yours, each breast did seize,
And all by Sympathy catcht your Disease.
Around you silent Imagery appears,
And nought in the Spectators moves, but Tears.
They pay what grief were to your Funeral due,
And yet dare hope Heaven would your Life renew.
How your true Death would have resented been:
A Lethargy, like yours, each breast did seize,
And all by Sympathy catcht your Disease.
Around you silent Imagery appears,
And nought in the Spectators moves, but Tears.
They pay what grief were to your Funeral due,
And yet dare hope Heaven would your Life renew.
Mean while, all means, all drugs prescribed are,
Which the decays of Health, or Strength repair,
Medicines so powerful they new Souls would save,
And Life in long-dead Carcasses retrieve:
But these in vain, they rougher Methods try,
And now your'e Martyr'd that you may not die;
Sad Scene of Fate! when Tortures were your gain:
And twas a kindness thought to wish you pain!
As if the slackned string of Life run down,
Could only by the Rack be screwed in tune.
Which the decays of Health, or Strength repair,
Medicines so powerful they new Souls would save,
And Life in long-dead Carcasses retrieve:
But these in vain, they rougher Methods try,
And now your'e Martyr'd that you may not die;
Sad Scene of Fate! when Tortures were your gain:
And twas a kindness thought to wish you pain!
As if the slackned string of Life run down,
Could only by the Rack be screwed in tune.
But Heav'n at last (grown conscious that its pow'r
Could scarce what was to die with you restore.)
And loth to see such Glories over-come,
Sent a post Angel to repeal your doom;
Strait Fate obey'd the Charge which Heaven sent,
And gave this first dear Proof, it could Repent:
Triumphant Charms! what may not you subdue,
When Fate's your Slave, and thus submits to you!
It now again the new-broke Thread does knit,
And for another Clew her spindle fit:
And life's hid spark which did unquencht remain,
Caught the fled light and brought it back again:
Thus you reviv'd, and all our Joy with you,
Reviv'd and found their Resurrection too:
Some only griev'd, that what was Deathless thought
They saw so near to Fatal ruin brought:
Now crowds of Blessings on that happy hand,
Whose skill could eager Destiny withstand;
Whose learned Pow'r has rescu'd from the Grave,
That Life which 'twas a Miracle to save;
That Life which were it thus untimely lost,
Had been the fairest Spoil Death ere could boast:
May he henceforth be God of healing thought,
By whom such good to you and us was brought:
Altars and shrines to him are justly due,
Who shew'd himself a God by raising you:
Could scarce what was to die with you restore.)
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Sent a post Angel to repeal your doom;
Strait Fate obey'd the Charge which Heaven sent,
And gave this first dear Proof, it could Repent:
Triumphant Charms! what may not you subdue,
When Fate's your Slave, and thus submits to you!
It now again the new-broke Thread does knit,
And for another Clew her spindle fit:
And life's hid spark which did unquencht remain,
Caught the fled light and brought it back again:
Thus you reviv'd, and all our Joy with you,
Reviv'd and found their Resurrection too:
Some only griev'd, that what was Deathless thought
They saw so near to Fatal ruin brought:
Now crowds of Blessings on that happy hand,
Whose skill could eager Destiny withstand;
Whose learned Pow'r has rescu'd from the Grave,
That Life which 'twas a Miracle to save;
That Life which were it thus untimely lost,
Had been the fairest Spoil Death ere could boast:
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By whom such good to you and us was brought:
Altars and shrines to him are justly due,
Who shew'd himself a God by raising you:
But say, fair Saint, for you alone can know,
Whither your Soul in this short flight did go;
Went it to antedate that Happiness,
You must at last (though late we hope) possess?
Inform us lest we should your Fate belye,
And call that Death which was but Extasie,
The Queen of Love (we're told) once let us see:
That Goddesses from wounds could not be free;
And you by this unwish'd Occasion show
That they like Mortal us can Sickness know:
Pitty! that Heav'n should all its Titles give,
And yet not let you with them ever live.
You'd lack no point that makes a Deity,
If you could like it too Immortal be.
Whither your Soul in this short flight did go;
Went it to antedate that Happiness,
You must at last (though late we hope) possess?
Inform us lest we should your Fate belye,
And call that Death which was but Extasie,
The Queen of Love (we're told) once let us see:
That Goddesses from wounds could not be free;
And you by this unwish'd Occasion show
That they like Mortal us can Sickness know:
Pitty! that Heav'n should all its Titles give,
And yet not let you with them ever live.
You'd lack no point that makes a Deity,
If you could like it too Immortal be.
And so you are; half boasts a Deathless State;
Although your frailer part must yield to Fate.
By every breach in that fair lodging made,
Its blest Inhabitant is more displaid:
In that white Snow which overspreads your skin,
We trace ye whiter Soul which dwells within;
Which while you through this shining Hue display
Looks like a Star plac'd in the Milky way:
Such the bright Bodies of the Blessed are,
When they for Raiment cloath'd with Light appear,
And should you visit now the Seats of Bliss,
You need not wear another form but this.
Never did Sickness in such pomp appear,
As when it thus your Livery did wear,
Disease it self look'd amiable here.
So Clouds which would obscure the Sun oft gilded be,
And Shades are taught to shine as bright as he.
Although your frailer part must yield to Fate.
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Its blest Inhabitant is more displaid:
In that white Snow which overspreads your skin,
We trace ye whiter Soul which dwells within;
Which while you through this shining Hue display
Looks like a Star plac'd in the Milky way:
Such the bright Bodies of the Blessed are,
When they for Raiment cloath'd with Light appear,
And should you visit now the Seats of Bliss,
You need not wear another form but this.
Never did Sickness in such pomp appear,
As when it thus your Livery did wear,
Disease it self look'd amiable here.
So Clouds which would obscure the Sun oft gilded be,
And Shades are taught to shine as bright as he.
Grieve not fair Nymph, when in your Glass you trace
The marring footsteps of a pale Disease.
Regret not that your cheeks their Roses want,
Which a few Days shall in full store replant,
Which, whilst your Blood withdraws its guilty Red,
Tells that you own no faults that blushes need:
The Sun whose Bounty does each Spring restore
What Winter from the rifled Meadows tore,
Which every Morning with an early ray
Paints the young Blushing Cheeks of instant Day:
Whose skill (inimitable here below,)
Limns those gay Clouds which form Heaven's colour'd bow,
That Sun shall soon with Interest repay,
All the lost Beauty Sickness snatch'd a way.
Your Beams like his shall hourly now advance,
And every minute their swift Growth enhance.
The marring footsteps of a pale Disease.
Regret not that your cheeks their Roses want,
Which a few Days shall in full store replant,
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Tells that you own no faults that blushes need:
The Sun whose Bounty does each Spring restore
What Winter from the rifled Meadows tore,
Which every Morning with an early ray
Paints the young Blushing Cheeks of instant Day:
Whose skill (inimitable here below,)
Limns those gay Clouds which form Heaven's colour'd bow,
That Sun shall soon with Interest repay,
All the lost Beauty Sickness snatch'd a way.
Your Beams like his shall hourly now advance,
And every minute their swift Growth enhance.
Mean while (that you no helps of healths refuse)
Accept these humble Wishes of the Muse:
Which shall not of their Just Petition fail,
If she (and she's a Goddess) ought prevail.
Accept these humble Wishes of the Muse:
Which shall not of their Just Petition fail,
If she (and she's a Goddess) ought prevail.
May no profane Disease henceforth approach,
This sacred Temple with unhallow'd touch,
Or with rude sacriledge its frame debauch.
May these fair Members always happy be
In as full Strength and well-set Harmony,
As the new Foundress of your sex could boast,
Ere she by Sin her first Persecution lost:
May Destiny, just to your Merits, twine,
All your smooth Fortunes in a Silken Line.
And that you may at Heaven late arrive,
May it to you its largest Bottom give.
May Heaven with still repeated Favours bless,
Till it its Pow'r below its Will confess;
Till wishes can no more exalt your Fate,
Nor Poets fancy you more Fortunate.
This sacred Temple with unhallow'd touch,
Or with rude sacriledge its frame debauch.
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In as full Strength and well-set Harmony,
As the new Foundress of your sex could boast,
Ere she by Sin her first Persecution lost:
May Destiny, just to your Merits, twine,
All your smooth Fortunes in a Silken Line.
And that you may at Heaven late arrive,
May it to you its largest Bottom give.
May Heaven with still repeated Favours bless,
Till it its Pow'r below its Will confess;
Till wishes can no more exalt your Fate,
Nor Poets fancy you more Fortunate.
| The Works of Mr. John Oldham | |