University of Virginia Library

A short memoriall and Revew of sum Vertues in that examplary Christian, Mary Tompson,

who Dyed in march 22: 1679. penned for the imitation of the liveing.

Of all the treasure which this world doth hould
Tru saints are best whose price transendeth gould
And of all Comforts which Concern this life,
None to be found like to a Vertuous wife.
Our proto parent was environd round
With Rarest things yet no Content he found
Till such an one was formed by his side
With whom he might Convers, in whom Confide
With out which Comfort all our sweets are sowers
And familyes bear thissels with out floures.
And here if any whear it may be said
Lyes the Content of her lamenting head,
His Dearest Choice his Credit and his Crown,
A sweet example to a Christian Town,
Whose life was made of innocence and love,
Whose Death doth all to great Compasion move.
Tis hard to tell where love did beare such sway,
Who twas Commanded or who did obey.
The swetest titles ever past betwene,
A Christian paire and Deeds might here be seen.
A Choicer spirit hardly Could be found
For Universall virtue on the ground.
One who betimes gave Up her virgin heart,
To Christ with solemn vows never to part,
And when she Changd her state she did attend
Such Dutyes as Concernd the maryage end.
With lovely Clusters Round on every side,
The house of god and hers she butified.
Zeal to whose worship in her Constant ways
Makes her an object of transendant prays.
What entercourse twixt heav'n and her I guess,
Besides what others did to me Confess,
Makes me Enrole her Reall saint indeed
For whom her turtle may both weep and bleed.
Ask but the neighbour hood and they will tell,
She was a Dorcas in our israell,
Ready on every hand to run or spend
To sick and pore to minister and lend.
So amiable in her whole Convers,
The least we Can is to lament her hearse.
But twas a stock in hand only on trust
Which to Returne upon Demand is just.
Our intrest houlds no longer, heavens decree,
Must give a supersedeas unto the.
Her wedded Consort from those bitter sighs
She is above a mortall that ner dyes.
Tis tru she might have lived many a year,
And still have shone in her Domestick sphear.
She might have made your lovely number up,
And you a while adjournd that bitter Cup.
You might have livd both long and sweet as ever,
Yet in the end the sword of Death must sever.
The faster love is twisted in the heart
With Roots Confirmd the harder tis to part.
She might have pind a way with tedious mone
But her Dispatch is quick, shees quickly gone.
Two lives in one panting foe, Double breath
She yeilds up both in to the arms of Death.
Well may our teares at such a loss run ore
When such as love most Dear must se no more.
Well may her Consort Call this marys Day,
Deaths bitterness hath swept his joys a way,
But lett in hers at once or lett her in
Such Chambers where never entered sin.
No Tears or pains, nor what brings Cross or wo
The Climate where she is shall ever know.
Should soule and body both posess one grave,
Relations then Could small Refreshment have,
While we discharg poore dutys to the Dust,
Her soule triumphant is among the just.
Could heven one glimps of passion once retaine,
Sheed Chide those teares off, and make you refrain.
Now all her prayers and hopes are spedd,
Her memory survives her body Dead.
Let her example as a Coppy stand
To Childrens Children upon every hand.
Talk of her sayings, one to another tell,
What in her life you have observed well.
Follow her steps and imitate her life,
Who was a Virtuous virgin mother wife.
So when Deaths summons treats you in such wise,
You may with greatest Comfort, Close your eys.