Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

E'er this, the last from thy endearing Wife,
This, the last Efforts of an ebbing Life!
E're This to Thee, can reach the destin'd Shore,
Thy Wife, thy tender Wife will be—no more,
And all compriz'd in that dear Name must end,
The Kindest Husband, and the truest Friend.

When Honour call'd, and by your King's Command,
For foreign Realms you left your native Land,
Too well you knew, what Pains my Soul oppress'd,
Too well you knew the Tortures of my Breast;
You knew, when Coughs my heaving Vessels tore,
How all my Lungs distill'd a putrid Gore:
And soon these Pains, that in my Bosom rave,
Will bring me down untimely to my Grave,
For so Physicians tell me by their Skill.
And sure, Physicians would not wish me Ill.)
Now even now, my vital Spirit fails,
Life now is going out, and Death prevails;

Scarce can my fainting Heart these Lines indite,
Scarce can my trembling Hand sustain to write,
But that fond Passion, which for You I bear,
Just lends me Strength, just gives me to declare,
That of the Pains, which Death sets out to view,
The greatest is, that I must part with You.

But let not This thy manly Thoughts controul,
And brood in Anguish o'er thy stedfast Soul;
Rather rejoyce, that my untainted Mind
Has known no Guile, in Innocence refin'd,
That no Repentance forms a late Delay,
Or stops my Journey to eternal Day;
But that I spend my latest Hours, intent
On those dear Pleasures of a Life well-spent,
On those dear Pleasures, which with Thee I've found
Pleasures, which few can taste in Wedlock bound;
And ever and anon Reflect with Pain,
That All so soon must end, and ne'er return again.

Far from believing these Reflections weak,
That they the Frailty of our Sex bespeak,
I rather think, a due Respect they shew
To what has been ordain'd for Man below,
In shewing such Unwillingness to leave
A State, which some the Curse of Heav'n believe,
A State, which, rightly held, the greatest Joys can give.

Since we can tell no more of what's to come,
Than that we all shall once receive our Doom,
That Pious Souls in endless Bliss shall reign,
And find, they have not strove with Vice in vain;
That all the Bad shall view Hell's dark Abode,
And own too late the Vengeance of a God:
Since we can tell no more; why mayn't we please
The poor, departing Soul with Thoughts, like these;
That, tho' we're dead, and lock'd within the Tomb,
Yet the fond Spirit hovers round it's Home,

Still has a Sense of all that's done below,
Still conversant in all our Scenes of Woe;
And may, perhaps, have this for it's Employ—
To guide the Actions, and the Wants supply
Of those, it walk'd with in the Paths of Life,
A loving Husband, or a tender Wife.
I may, perhaps, my usual Task pursue,
And, tho' unknown, be present still with You,
Sooth the loud Tumults of your troubled Breast,
And in soft Whispers lull your Soul to Rest.
Believe me then, thou dearest, best of Friends!
On whom my Thoughts, my Will, my All depends;
Nothing can so much Happiness create,
As this Employment in a Future State;
Thro' the rough Tempests of a boist'rous Life,
Still to attend Thee, still thy constant Wife;
When fierce Distempers rack thy groaning Soul,
And ghastly Visions all thy Thoughts controul,
To close thy Eye-lids in the Bands of Sleep,
And, tho' unseen, sit down perhaps, and weep!

To ride before thee, thy presiding Star,
And shield thy Bosom from the Storms of War;
To bear Thee safe thro' all th' embattl'd Plain,
My self unhurt, incapable of Pain:
For oft' I've long'd in Battle to appear,
Fight by thy Side, and shake the glitt'ring Spear,
Unmindful of our Sex, it's Weakness, and it's Fear.

With these fond Thoughts my languid Heart I warm,
These for a-while the fierce Distemper charm:
But Oh! too strong my Agonies prevail,
My Soul dies in me, and my Spirits fail,
When I reflect on all that weight of Woe,
Which thy poor, trembling Soul must undergo
When this sad News shall strike thy tortur'd Ear,
And drown'd in Grief tumultuous You shall hear

These killing Words pronounc'd—thy Wife is Dead,
And all the Pleasures of thy Life are fled:
But here I'll stop—
Too well I know the Anguish of your Heart,
Too well I know, I touch the tender'st Part;
The more I strive to offer you Relief
By fond Reflections, and asswage your Grief;
The more the heaving Tides of Sorrow rise,
Unman your Soul, and melt your yielding Eyes.

But know, thou fondest, know, thou dearest Friend!
Know, that e're this poor Life shall feel it's End,
To Thee dear Man! my latest Breath shall flee,
And the last struggling Sigh be breath'd for Thee,
For never, never must I see you more,
Soon at one Gasp this Being will be o'er:

Then take this last Adieu! Farewell for Life,
But still believe me
Your obedient Wife.