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Poems

or, A Miscellany of Sonnets, Satyrs, Drollery, Panegyricks, Elegies, &c. At the Instance, and Request of Several Friends, Times, and Occasions, Composed; and now at their command Collected, and Committed to the Press. By the Author, M. Stevenson
 
 

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Upon Madam A. C. a fair Lady that dyed of the Small-Pox.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Upon Madam A. C. a fair Lady that dyed of the Small-Pox.

So the unruly Blood did over-boil,
That beauty is it self become a foil.
The furious Feaver all advantage takes,
And thus a shadow of a Sun-beam makes.
Her crystal cheeks, that challeng'd once all praise
Are now berainbow'd with refracted Rayes.
Forme! yet forbear, and not a reason ask,
Since Heaven is pleas'd to put thee on this mask;
Let no repining open any Lips,
Shall Heaven the Sun, and not thy Face Eclipse?
Heaven has revok'd the radiance that he gave,
Where Love had once his Throne, has now his grave.
Not but her Soul, that Spark Immortal, burns
Bright in Dark-Lanthorns, or obscurer Urnes.
Whose forme, though faded, and her Face uneven,
Through this red-latice found the way to heaven.

6

What though distempers moulder the Mud-wall,
Captives are ransom'd where the Prisons fall.
Was it not time to quit that batter'd Fort,
Where every Pimple was a Sally-port?
But she has ended now her Christian wars,
And thus in tryumph carrys off her scars.