Carolina :: :: University of Virginia Library

Eyes having done their parts, the Tongue must speak:
And tho loud sighs have made mine accents weak;
That brest must yield a sound, whose heart-strings break.

203

Their griefs are most, who silently lament:
Such fires are hottest in their Fornace pent;
Yet fann'd by sighs the flame now finds a Vent.

Those sad reverberating groans that rise
Fro th' Caverns of my bosome, change their noise,
And, Eccho-like, dissolve into a Voice.

No show'rs of tears my sorrows storms can lay;
Nor sighs (those gusts of grief) blow tears away:
My life must be one rainy-windy-Day.

The Life of Man depends on breath in chief:
Chameleon-like, my sorrows gain relief
Fro th' inward air of sighs, that breath of grief.

Such signs of grief by Nature should be sent;
Since she has lost her choicest Ornament,
Her Winds in sighs, Rain should in tears be spent.

Both Nature and the Graces here combin'd
All beauties both of Body and of Mind;
Perfections, scatter'd through the World, here joyn'd.

So curious, so proportion'd every part,
That neither strength, nor Beauty got the start,
Hence Durer might have form'd more rules of Art.

Those charming Muscles that his smiles compos'd,
Were like the Net, which Mars and Venus clos'd.

Consult but him—old stories did not feign;
Th' Amazonian Empire prov'd here plain;
Beauty, and Valour did together reign.

204

Nor joyn'd they only in his outward frame;
Their Virtues in his Soul too were the same:
Like Lightning bright, but threatning was his flame.

So working in his Breast his Spirits were;
Had they been ramm'd in any breast but there,
The weaker Gun had shiver'd into Air.

His Body only his great Soul did fit:
And there alone his Soul could only sit:
Nature's right Tallies! this, with that did hit.

His brighter Virtues we cannot unfold;
Those that less dazling are we may behold;
'Tis wise to save the very dross of Gold.

What we can comprehend, we here but write;
We guess at Pyramids above our sight,
And by their Shadows only take their height.

So true a Patriot—It was his care
His Prince's and his Countries love to share;
No Favourit, and yet no Popular.

So kind a Husband, his fair Lady knew
No carriage, but like that when he did wooe;
All he did then pretend, he since made true.

So good a Parent, it may raise debate,
Which of his gifts may claim the higher rate;
Their Life, his great Example, or Estate.

He was the bravest Foe, the truest Friend,
That ever Love, or anger did pretend;
Both which, with Justice, did begin and end.

205

To all in want he favours did bestow;
His Charity, like Nilus, did o'reflow,
And made the neighb'ring barren Soyls to grow.

His Conversation pleasant was, and good,
And like to Israels heav'nly Manna prov'd;
To all dilicious, yet substantial food.

Designd with Justice, by all-knowing Fate,
To all that Fortune gives both good and great:
Rich is the Stone, that without foyl is set.

How soon our hopes were bury'd in despair?
Thus Fabricks vast require no lesser care,
Nor cost to build, than keep 'em in repair.

Nature's great Gifts he nobly did requite;
The Splendors he receiv'd, he made more bright,
His Diamonds paid, as well as borrow'd light.

But we have lost the comfort of his rayes;
This sudden Cloud our Senses did amaze:
Darkness seems most, after the brightest blaze.

Let us with sadness his blest period view;
Sickness and Pains did so his Soul pursue;
As Fate would try what a great heart could do.

Too soon his lofty Soul did mount the Sky:
Spirits too fast sublim'd in vapours fly:
As richest men decay, that live too high.

Th' eternal spark, Heav'n kindled in his brest,
By mortal damps could never be supprest;
But soar'd a Phœnix from its flaming Nest.

206

So th' sacred Lamp (that was the High-Priest's care)
Long hid in darkness, when expos'd to th' Air,
Reviv'd its sleeping flame, and beam'd more fair.

His Soul (above the Sun's) scorn'd to set low;
Its faculties ev'n then did bigger show:
As Evening shadows in dimensions grow.

His thoughts were greater, when Death came in sight,
In those approaches to his latest Night.
H'inlarg'd his Room, to let in greater light.

With sharpest darts the Tyrant did assail;
Against his Heart of proof none could prevail;
It was so guarded with its Native Mail.

Bold Scæva thus, upon his faithful Shield,
Receiv'd a Grove of Darts, yet scorn'd to yield;
Retiring great as Cæsar from the Field.