University of Virginia Library

[So have I seen a little silly Fly]

So have I seen a little silly Fly
Upon a blazing Taper dart and die.
The foolish Insect ravish'd with so bright
And fair a Glory, would devour the Light.
At first he wheels about the threatning Fire,
With a Career as fleet as his Desire:
This Ceremony past, he joins the same
In Hopes to be transform'd himself to Flame.
The fiery, circumambient Sparkles glow,
And vainly warn him of his Overthrow,
But resolute he'll to Destruction go.
So mean-born Mortals, such as I, aspire,
And injure with unhallowed Desire,
The Glory we ought only to admire.
We little think of the intense fierce Flame,
That Gold alone is Proof against the same;
And that such Trash as we like drossy Lead,
Consume before it, and it strikes us dead.

[So Paradise was brightned, so 'twas blest]

So Paradise was brightned, so 'twas blest,
When Innocence and Beauty it possest.
Such was it's more retired Path and Seat,
For Eve and musing Angels a Retreat.
Such Eden's Streams, and Banks, and tow'ring Groves;
Such Eve her self, and such her Muse and Loves.
Only there wants an Adam on the Green,
Or else all Paradise might here be seen.

To Urania On the Death of her first and only Child.

Why mourns my beauteous Friend, bereft?
Her Saviour and her Heav'n are left:
Her lovely Babe is there at Rest,
In Jesus' Arms embrac'd and blest.
Would you, Urania, wish it down
From yon bright Throne, and shining Crown?
To your cold Arms, and empty Breast,
Could Heaven indulge you the Request;
Your Bosom's neither warm nor fair,
Compar'd with Abraham's: leave it there.
He, the fam'd Father of the Just,
Beheld himself but Earth and Dust,
Before the Will of God most High,
And bid his Darling Isaac die.
When Heav'n requir'd in Sacrifice
The dear Desire of his Eyes;
And more to prove his Love commands
The Offering from the Father's Hands;
See how th' illustrious Parent yields,
And seeks Moriah's mournful Fields.
He bound his lovely only Child
For Death; his Soul serene and mild:
He reach'd his Hand, and grasp'd the Knife,
To give up the devoted Life.
Less Heaven demands of thee, my Friend;
And less thy Faith shall recommend.
All it requires, is to resign,
To Heaven's own Act, and make it thine
By Silence under Discipline.
The least we to our Maker owe!
The least, Urania, you did vow!
The least that was your Saviour's Claim,
When o'er your Babe his glorious Name
Was call'd in awful Baptism! Then
You gave it back to Heaven again.
You freely own'd that happy Hour,
Heaven's Right, Propriety and Power,
The Loan at Pleasure to resume,
And call the pretty Stranger Home.
A Witness likewise at its Birth
I stood, that Hour of Joy and Mirth:
I saw your thankful Praises rise,
And flow from pleas'd, uplifted Eyes:
With rais'd Devotion, one Accord,
We gave the Infant to its Lord.
And think, Urania, 'ere that Day,
While the fair Fruit in secret lay,
Unseen, yet lov'd within the Womb,
(Which also might have been its Tomb)
How oft, before it blest your Sight,
In secret Prayers with great Delight,
You did recognize Heaven's Right.
Now stand to these blest Acts, my Friend:
Stand firmly by them to the End:
Now you are try'd, repeat the Act;
Too just, too glorious to retract.
Think, dear Urania, how for thee,
God gave his only Son to be,
An Offering on the cursed Tree.
Think, how the Son of God on Earth;
(The spotless Virgins blessed Birth)
Our lovely Babes took up, and blest;
And them high Heirs of Heaven confest!
Think, how the Bless'd of Women stood,
While impious Hands, to th' cursed Wood
Nail'd down her only Son and God!
Learn hence, Urania, to be dumb!
Learn thou the Praise that may become
Thy lighter Grief; which Heaven does please
To take such wondrous Ways to ease.
Adore the God, who from thee takes,
No more than what he gives and makes:
And means in tenderest Love, the Rod
To serve to thy eternal Good.

Another to Urania, &c.

Attend, ye mournful Parents, while
I sing, a Mother in Israel;
The fam'd, the gracious Shunamite,
Whose beauteous Story would invite
A Saint to yield her only one,
Almost without a Tear or Groan.
A wondrous Son she did embrace,
Heaven's signal Work, and special Grace;
Nor long embrac'd, but on her Knees
Arrested by a fierce Disease,
Scarce could he cry, My Head, My Head!
E'er the dear Parent saw him dead:
She laid him breathless on the Bed.
Deep was her Anguish, yet her Peace
She held, and went to God for Ease.
No Signs of Grief distort her Face,
Nor cloud its wonted Beams of Grace.
No Moans, no Shrieks, no piercing Cries;
No wringed Hands, or flowing Eyes
Distressed the House in that Surprize.
She hastes her to the Man of God,
Hastes to the Place of his Abode:
Mildly denies the Cause to tell
To her dear Spouse; all would be well
She trusts: So did her Faith excel.
Elisha, with a tender Fear,
Saw his illustrious Friend draw near:
'Twas not one of the Holy-Days
Sacred to publick Prayer and Praise;
Why then the Shunamite from Home?
On what great Errand was she come?
Her Speed bespoke some weighty Care,
Which generous Friendship long'd to share.
It struck him, something had befell
The Husband, Child,—All was not well—
Go, run Gebazi, said the Seer,
Enquire, with Earnestness sincere;
“Say, generous Host, if all be well?—
“All's well; my Lord! she said, and fell
At her great Intercessor's Feet:
There vents her Grief in Accents sweet,
Mild in her Anguish, in her Plaints discreet.
Such dear Urania, you to me!
O might I be but such to thee!
Mind, gracious Friend, the Word she said,
All well, and yet the Child was dead.
What God ordains is well and best.
Well 'tis with ours, when gone to Rest.
It's well with us, who stay behind,
If more from Earth and Sense refin'd,
W' are patient, pray'rful, meek, resign'd.