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Epigrams theological, philosophical, and romantick

Six books, also the Socratic Session, or the Arraignment and Conviction, of Julius Scaliger, with other Select Poems. By S. Sheppard

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An Ellegie On The Death Of My Deare And Truly Vertuous Mother, Mis. Pettronella Sheppard, Who Deceased September 10. 1650.
  
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213

An Ellegie On The Death Of My Deare And Truly Vertuous Mother, Mis. Pettronella Sheppard, Who Deceased September 10. 1650.

All I can do I will, Nature alone,
Doth not enjoyn't, the valluation
I set on Vertue doth command my Quill
(Tryumphant Saint) these lines for to distill:
Thou gav'st me life, now thou hast lost thy breath,
Let me at least preserve thy Name from Death.
I will not taxe the starres, or on pretence
Of griefe defie each heavenly influence,

214

Quarrell with Atropos, give Mors the lye,
And denounce warre against each Destinie,
For snatching thee away, a speciall Fate
From hence to Heaven did thy Soule translate,
This dirty orbe, not worthy for to beare
A Soule so matchlesse, so Divinely faire.
V-iell did Eliah's Chariot guide,
In which up to Olympus thou didst ride.
As Sol beneath a Cloud, as Gold in dung,
So wert thou conversant on Earth too long,
Prosperity could not beguile thy sence,
Nor Fortunes frown cause thy impatience,
I am not partiall in what I averre,
I would be Truths, and not thy Chronicler.
Had'st thou surviv'd in those imperfect times
When Hesiod wrote, and Homer sang his rimes,
Thou hadst been VESTA, or some Dietie,
More glorious, more divinely chaste then she:
Or had those of that age thy virtues seen,
The first and greatest Sybill thou hadst been:
Or had the Romish Faith thy soule surprizd,
Most sure ere this thou hadst been canoniz'd,
And plac'd [illeg.] Rubrick, found as faire a day
As Agnes, Agathe, or Ursula.

215

What though the pompe, and that affected state
Which many a Dais doth accumulate,
Was wanting at thy death, and in the darke
(Perhaps without the Priest, or Parish Clarke)
Thou wert but halfe inhum'd, this is thy glory,
That both in life and death things transitory,
Were thy contempt and scorn (perhaps t'was so)
Decreed above thou to thy grave shouldst go
Like Moses wrapt in Mysts, least after dayes
Reading this story of thy lasting praise,
Should erect temples to thy vertuous Name,
Search for thy body, and adore the same.
Rest, Rest thou glorious Saint, the feigned praise
Which doth unto the skies the glory raise
Of Aria, Portia, and Lucretia,
Evadne, or fam'd Artimesia,
Suffers eclipse in thee. O sad,
That thou whose Virtues were so Paramount,

216

Should find so little Roome ith' book of Fame,
Yet this shall serve to keep alive thy Name,
I would say more, did not my teares prevent,
Be this thy Pyramid and Monument.

217

HER EPITAPH.

With reverend awe this earth tread on,
It merits your Devotion.
Beneath this turfe lies Chastitie,
Wisedome, and reall Pietie
Kneaded together, buried here
(Though without Tombe or Sepulcher)
Lies Arias, Loyall love and all,
That we can rare, or precious call.
A woman, who for wit might vie
With Pallas, for sobrietie
With the fam'd Wife of Collatine ,
Her gesture grave, her words Divine,
No Fortune could her thoughts divide,
A Saint she liv'd, a Saint she dy'd.
 

Lucrece.