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126

On a Lady, of a Voice incomparably sweet, who died Young.

[I.]

As a sweet Bird, to rest his weary Wings,
Takes to a Wood, and on some stately Tree,
Ne'er dreaming of his Misery,
Tunes his harmonious Throat, and sings:
Till a remorsless Wretch, whose Ears
Ne'er felt the Force of Melody and Verse,
With an unpitying Hand destroys
The feather'd Charmer's Voice.
So fair Emilia did excell;
So She sung, and so She fell.
Abruptly snatch'd away by hasty Death,
Who stopp'd his Ears, to stop her Breath:

127

For much he fear'd, that if he should delay
To hear Her sing, He should for ever stay.

II.

Sweet Charmer! Thou art mounted to the Skies,
Where an eternal Ecstasy goes round:
With what Attendance to the Gods she flies!
How all the Heav'ns resound!
See where the laurel'd Angels sit!
Hark! how the sacred Poets string
Their golden Instruments, and sing!
But she is silent yet.
When She begins some Heav'nly Air,
Some Hymn so excellent and rare,
Sure 'twill inhance the Blessings there.