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Poems on Several Occasions

With Anne Boleyn to King Henry VIII. An Epistle. By Mrs. Elizabeth Tollet. The Second Edition
  

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HYPATIA.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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HYPATIA.

Deny'd that Fame, and robb'd of that Repose
Which Learning merits, Innocence bestows,
From that poetic Shade, th' Elysian Field,
That Shade at least to Heathen Virtue yield,
Hypatia comes: The dire, revolving Date
Of circling Years renews my cruel Fate.
Did I for this to Plato's Chair succeed,
In Youth by envious Ignorance to bleed?
When neither Virtue, nor the soften Charm
Of female Grace, the Vulgar cou'd disarm,

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(To Fury heighten'd by misguided Zeal,)
To future Age I made my just Appeal.
But what detested Spell my Shade cou'd raise
To suffer L---s' Spleen, or Toland's Praise?
Above thy Rage, above thy Flattery more,
The tort'ring Shells with less Regret I bore:
Alas! by thee 'tis Honour to be blam'd;
And to be prais'd by thee to be defam'd.
Severe! tho' conscious Innocence sustains
The Mind, and mean Apology disdains:
That Conduct to ambiguous Guilt belongs,
Or Souls unequal to the Weight of Wrongs.
To such her Fame would inbred Virtue owe,
Whom her exalted Flight surveys below,
Unskill'd to judge, tho' forward to bestow,
Yet to th' Unbyass'd, the distinguish'd Few,
Whose clearer Judgment makes a just Review,
She turns undaunted, and submits her Cause:
Nor shrinks from Censure, nor demands Applause.
Such gen'rous Warmth true Modesty inspires,
Where servile Shame with Coward Dread retires:
Virtue and Vice mistaken for the same;
Yet more distinct in Nature than in Name.
What cruel Laws depress the female Kind,
To humble Cares and servile Tasks confin'd?
In gilded Toys their florid Bloom to spend,
And empty Glories that in Age must end:
For am'rous Youth to spread the artful Snares;
And by their Triumphs to enlarge their Cares.

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For, once engag'd in the domestic Chain,
Compare the Sorrows, and compute the Gain;
What Happiness can Servitude afford?
A Will resign'd to an imperious Lord,
Or Slave to Avarice, to Beauty blind,
Or sour'd with Spleen, or ranging unconfin'd.
That haughty Man, unrival'd and alone,
May boast the World of Science all his own:
As barb'rous Tyrants, to secure their Sway,
Conclude that Ignorance will best obey.
Then boldly loud, and privileg'd to rail,
As Prejudice o'er Reason may prevail,
Unequal Nature is accus'd to fail.
The Theme, in keen Iambics smoothly writ,
Which was but Malice late, shall soon be Wit.
Nature in vain can Womankind inspire
With brighter Particles of active Fire,
Which to their Frame a due Proportion hold,
Refin'd by dwelling in a purer Mold,
If useless Rust must fair Endowments hide;
Or Wit, disdaining Ease, be misapply'd.
'Tis then that Wit, which Reason shou'd refine,
And disengage the Metal from the Mine,
Luxuriates, or degen'rates to Design.
Wit unemploy'd becomes a dang'rous Thing;
As Waters stagnate, and defile their Spring.
The cultivated Mind, a fertile Soil,
With rich Increase rewards the useful Toil:
But fallow left, an hateful Crop succeeds,
Of tangling Brambles, and pernicious Weeds;

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'Tis endless Labour then the Ground to clear,
And trust the doubtful Earnest of the Year.
Yet oft we hear, in Height of stupid Pride,
Some senseless Ideot curse a letter'd Bride.
Is this a Crime? for female Minds to share
The early Influence of instructive Care:
To learn from treach'rous Passions to divest
The yielding Softness of a youthful Breast;
The Heart with solid Prudence to redeem
From fond, mistaken Objects of Esteem.
To see in Fortune, when she smiles serene,
A dang'rous Syren with a fawning Mien:
But when she frowns, to scorn her vain Alarms,
Secure in Virtue's adamantine Arms.
Or to distinguish, with a stricter View,
The near Resemblance of the False and True:
Of Vice and Virtue there the Bounds to fix,
Just where their fading Colours seem to mix.
Or yet is this a Crime? By Measures just,
In figur'd Space to circumscribe the Dust:
With Ecstacy Proportion to compare,
Of streight and crooked, circular and square;
Abstracted Truths in Numbers to explain,
Or in mysterious Secrecy retain.
Or yet is this a Crime? the Mind to raise,
To follow Nature in her winding Ways:
To interdicted Knowledge to aspire,
And of the mighty Parent thus enquire.

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How all that Reason points, or Sense can see,
At first began, and yet persists to be:
How, link'd in Peace, the Elements combine,
And each contributes to the great Design;
Tho' when the chymic Fires their Parts divide,
The Volatile ascend, the Gross subside.
What in her Cells the central Earth contains;
How latent Metals ripen in their Veins:
How ruder Flints the sparkling Gem inclose;
And how amid the Rock the Ruby glows.
From whence the Earth imbibes the humid Stores,
Which weeping Marble ouzes at its Pores:
Why justly she renews the annual Scene,
Now white with Snow, now gay with springing Green.
Whence knows th' refluent Ocean to obey
Th' alternate Impulse of the lunar Ray.
What diff'rent Principles do Life bestow
Upon the Scale of Beings here below;
Whence some have only to exist and grow.
Of these, why some upon their native Bed
Lye prostrate: some to Heav'n erect the Head;
Why some a leavy Shade alone produce;
Why others clust'ring Fruit and gen'rous Juice.
Why some the Air with spicy Odors fill;
Some thro' the wounded Bark their Balm distil:
Whence some have Pow'r to stay the fleeting Breath;
And some the fatal Shafts of instant Death.
Or why those Beings which we Brutes miscal,
So closely imitate the Rational.

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Howe'er that Fire that animates their Frame
May be defin'd, or whence soe'er it came;
Which now collected, and in Bodies fix'd,
With liquid Air hereafter may be mix'd:
Yet by external Acts they seem endu'd
With Hatred, Love, Resentment, Gratitude;
Almost the Samian Sage Belief might gain,
That transmigrating Souls their Breasts contain.
Or how the Race of Man perceives within,
That Principle whence these Demands begin:
How Nature does in him to Sense unite
A more exalted Flame, and purer Light,
Empower'd to choose, reject, divide, combine,
With Rays reflected on the Past to shine,
And thence the distant Future to divine.
Whether, distinct, the Heav'n-born Mind controul
The headstrong Animal, the lower Soul;
Or but a Part herself conduct the Whole.
Or of Primæval Light is she a Ray,
Infus'd to guide the amicable Clay?
Or hold these Bodies the reluctant Mind
In Penalty of former Guilt confin'd?
Is she again thro' other Forms to stray?
Or wait the Doom of one decisive Day?
Yet, as she may, her Forces she explores,
And far above the Orb sublunar soars.
She leaves the less'ning Earth, and upward springs,
On purer Æther to expand her Wings;

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A nobler Pitch her bold Enquiries fly,
Amid the Fields of her congenial Sky.
She sees the Lights which we accuse to stray,
In measur'd Dance pursue their certain Way:
And thousand Stars, which scarce to us appear,
With vivid Rays illuminate the Sphere;
In deepen'd Spaces, and retiring Files,
Whose Distance hence the weary Eye beguiles.
She sees where Comets trail their fiery Hair,
Terrific Lustre! thro' the shining Air:
Nor Vapours they, whose Levity aspires
At Phœbus' Car to catch Promethean Fires;
But real Stars, which unextinguish'd burn,
Thro' larger Periods of a just Return.
Whether that Spirit which o'er all presides
Infus'd thro' all its equal Motions guides,
Or from the whole distinct, himself unseen,
Conducts and regulates the vast Machine,
Let Heav'n decide; by Reason's finite View
To judge the Diff'rence, wou'd the Doubt renew:
Yet she aspires that Being to explore,
The Source of all, and wond'ring to adore.
Shall jealous Man to Woman then deny,
In these Debates her Faculties to try;
And spend the Moments which unheeded fly?
For this must our unhappy Sex engage
Relentless Malice, and Barbarian Rage?
While Tyrant Custom Reason over-awes;
And partial Humour to the World gives Laws.

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Yet these may conscious Innocence defy,
Approv'd to Virtue, and secure to dye:
No Doubt remains, that Fame shall then be just,
When Spleen and Censure shall be laid in Dust;
That future Ages shall reverse their Doom,
Nor impious Envy violate the Tomb.
For Virtue then, with native Lustre bright,
From Time and Death receives her strongest Light:
So when nice Art with Nature seems at Strife,
To animate the Canvas into Life,
The just Obscure the bolder Light confines,
And soft'ning Shadows swell the glowing Lines.

If in this little Piece the Doubts concerning the supreme Being be thought exceptionable, or any Passage in it inconsistent with the modern Philosophy, it must be considered that I was to adapt my Notions to the Character of an Heathen and a Platonist, who is supposed to deliver them: Indeed as to Comets, I have deviated a little to follow the late Improvements of Astronomy.