Fruits of Retirement Or, Miscellaneous Poems, Moral and Divine. Being Some Contemplations, Letters, &c. Written on a Variety of Subjects and Occasions. By Mary Mollineux ... To which is Prefixed, Some Account of the Author |
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 | Fruits of Retirement |  |
[Is worthy Mollineux now fall'n asleep]
Is worthy Mollineux now fall'n asleep,In true Contentedness, and Silence deep?
Her Noble Blessed Soul yet lives above,
I'th' Everlasting Bliss, i'th' Father's Love;
Where she doth rest, whilst we our selves bemoan
Our Loss of her, in Vertue so well known.
And still her Memory remains alive
I'th' Hearts of all her Friends, which do survive;
Who knew her Vert'ous Mind, Life, Words, and Way,
That from her tender Youth, she did not stray
From Wisdom's Voice and Dictates in her Heart;
Whereby she was enabled to impart
Some Fruits thereof, while she was very Young,
To such as saw to what it did belong:
The tender Noble Seed of Grace and Truth
Did freely spring, when she was in her Youth;
And grew in her, as she increas'd in Years,
Bringing forth Fruit, as by her Book appears:
Of which, a Testimony rests behind,
As they that Read her Lines may fully find.
She did not strive, nor glory, to appear
In Gifts or Parts, but still to live in Fear;
Whence Wisdom's known to have a true Beginning,
And in the same she made a Faithful Ending.
T. R.
A few Words more, in Remembrance of my dear Wife, M. M.
Tho'
it may seem to some that read my Lines
As a delightful thing, because their Minds
Still their Enjoyments have; yet they must know
No lasting Joys remain in things below.
The Sythe of Time, Death, parteth Friend from Friend,
But to true Friendship cannot put an end;
Though Friends surviving Exercise may find,
Whose Friend's remov'd, whilst they remain behind.
My Friend, my Friend, my dearest Friend, my Wife,
The greatest Joy and Comfort of my Life,
In Visibles, is now remov'd from me:
Though, as one destitute of Hope, I see
No cause to Mourn for her; but sure I may
Be, for my Loss, concern'd: Yet this can say,
The Lord hath giv'n, the Lord hath took again,
High Praises still be to his Glorious Name,
Though mine's the Loss, hers is the Endless Gain.
Although to me my Loss to bear is hard,
Yet am I from Repining quite debarr'd;
The Lord doth with his Goodness so supply,
My Soul shall ever Praise him, till I die.
Bless'd be the Day, wherein my Love abounded,
At first to her, and Friendship firm was Founded
In our United Hearts; my Faithful Friend!
Friendship 'twixt thee and me shall never end.
She was my Wife for full Ten Years, (alas,
Short time!) which we in tender Love did pass
Endearingly, which in our Hearts was sow'n,
Some time before, by the Eternal One;
Which, living in our Bosoms, did increase,
Until the time of her deplor'd decease,
And now's as fresh as ever. Surely she,
Who wrote of Friendship, Love's extream degree,
(Although with Life, her Pen was much sublim'd,
Yet) did not, as her Bosom held it, find
Words, half sufficient, fully to declare
The Faithful Love she to her Friend did bear.
True, Tender-hearted, in Affection kind,
Exceeding diligent, and much inclin'd
All for to serve in Love; but much more me,
To whom she had comply'd my Wife to be.
She to the Age of Thirty-Four Years stay'd
A Modest, Chaste, Reserv'd, Ingenious Maid;
Who did not only write of Modesty,
(In Words profound) and spotless Chastity,
But in Example was, as well as Words,
A Pattern in the same: Wherein accords
Her Life, Works, Writings, Words, true, lovely, sweet,
Which in concinnate Harmony did meet.
And as she wrote of Worship, Truth, and Zeal,
With Courage bold for God, she did not fail;
Being by his Arm upheld, when deeply prov'd,
To stand a Faithful Witness: For she lov'd
The Praise of God, more than the Praise of Men;
Therefore was more to him, seem'd less to them
That did not choose his Fear: Wherein she found
Wisdom to stop their Mouths, their Wits confound;
Though of the chief in Babel's Learning, they
Stood as amaz'd, and knew not what to say.
A Bishop of two Counties Diocess
Her Question'd, she Reply'd, he proved this:
His Chaplain then (the Master's Cause to mend)
Attempting to Dispute, was foyl'd i'th' end;
Whose Brother (being Lawyer) present cry'd,
Her Learning made her mad; when she reply'd,
He, as asham'd, and Speechless, turn'd aside.
Thus Three great Learned Men, of subtil Wit,
(To Silence put) did in One Hour submit
T'a little Woman, crown'd with Wisdom's Bays,
Who, in God's Fear, did celebrate his Praise;
Declaring boldly 'gainst that Worship, which
God ne'er set up, that makes its Merchants Rich.
She lov'd the precious Truth, (plac'd in her Heart)
For which she was Imprison'd; but the smart
Its Adversaries felt: For Joy to her
Thereby accru'd, who did its Cause prefer
Before all Transitories. And, when I
Was Prisoner for the same, it was my Joy,
That she great Exercise did nobly bear,
Therein rejoycing in God's Holy Fear:
Though for her sake, Grief pierced oft my Mind,
Where I the sense did of her Suffering find,
So deep, that from mine Eyes my Sleep withdrew,
And secret Tears did frequently pursue:
Yea, without Outward Notice, once was I,
When she was, by Distemper, like to die,
Made sensible thereof, though in the Goal,
Distant near Forty Miles, and did Condole;
And for her to the Lord I pray'd, whose Ear
Was open, and through Prison-Walls did hear:
And he releas'd her from her Malady,
And me from Prison, her again to see;
Though then Confin'd, as firm as Men could tye;
Praises be to God's Name Eternally.
She sweetly wrote of Charity Divine,
Which in her Heart and Life did clearly shine
More bright, than in her Words; which did extend,
In her, to Poor and Rich, to Foe and Friend:
To all in plainness she, with due respect,
Would freely shew her Sense; but to reflect
'Gainst any, being absent, did eschew;
Charity taught her better things to do.
To any, in Affliction, she was free
Advice to give, or help with Remedy,
Where her Endeavours could; which God did bless,
Remarkably, with the desir'd success:
Yea, sometimes, when Physitians had been try'd,
Much Money paid, and still the Cure deny'd
To their Performance, she in freeness gave
What, from Distempers dreadful, prov'd to save.
But Charity in her did farther move
Her tender Heart, in Sympathizing Love,
To use her Tongue or Pen, a Word to give
To Minds in Exercise; which did Relieve,
Convince, or Satisfie, and Strengthen some,
The Race of Vertue in their time to run:
For which, some have good Cause to bless the Name
Of God, from whom those Words with Vertue came.
As a delightful thing, because their Minds
Still their Enjoyments have; yet they must know
No lasting Joys remain in things below.
The Sythe of Time, Death, parteth Friend from Friend,
But to true Friendship cannot put an end;
Though Friends surviving Exercise may find,
Whose Friend's remov'd, whilst they remain behind.
My Friend, my Friend, my dearest Friend, my Wife,
The greatest Joy and Comfort of my Life,
In Visibles, is now remov'd from me:
Though, as one destitute of Hope, I see
No cause to Mourn for her; but sure I may
Be, for my Loss, concern'd: Yet this can say,
The Lord hath giv'n, the Lord hath took again,
High Praises still be to his Glorious Name,
Though mine's the Loss, hers is the Endless Gain.
Although to me my Loss to bear is hard,
Yet am I from Repining quite debarr'd;
The Lord doth with his Goodness so supply,
My Soul shall ever Praise him, till I die.
Bless'd be the Day, wherein my Love abounded,
At first to her, and Friendship firm was Founded
In our United Hearts; my Faithful Friend!
Friendship 'twixt thee and me shall never end.
She was my Wife for full Ten Years, (alas,
Short time!) which we in tender Love did pass
Endearingly, which in our Hearts was sow'n,
Some time before, by the Eternal One;
Until the time of her deplor'd decease,
And now's as fresh as ever. Surely she,
Who wrote of Friendship, Love's extream degree,
(Although with Life, her Pen was much sublim'd,
Yet) did not, as her Bosom held it, find
Words, half sufficient, fully to declare
The Faithful Love she to her Friend did bear.
True, Tender-hearted, in Affection kind,
Exceeding diligent, and much inclin'd
All for to serve in Love; but much more me,
To whom she had comply'd my Wife to be.
She to the Age of Thirty-Four Years stay'd
A Modest, Chaste, Reserv'd, Ingenious Maid;
Who did not only write of Modesty,
(In Words profound) and spotless Chastity,
But in Example was, as well as Words,
A Pattern in the same: Wherein accords
Her Life, Works, Writings, Words, true, lovely, sweet,
Which in concinnate Harmony did meet.
And as she wrote of Worship, Truth, and Zeal,
With Courage bold for God, she did not fail;
Being by his Arm upheld, when deeply prov'd,
To stand a Faithful Witness: For she lov'd
The Praise of God, more than the Praise of Men;
Therefore was more to him, seem'd less to them
That did not choose his Fear: Wherein she found
Wisdom to stop their Mouths, their Wits confound;
Though of the chief in Babel's Learning, they
Stood as amaz'd, and knew not what to say.
A Bishop of two Counties Diocess
Her Question'd, she Reply'd, he proved this:
His Chaplain then (the Master's Cause to mend)
Attempting to Dispute, was foyl'd i'th' end;
Her Learning made her mad; when she reply'd,
He, as asham'd, and Speechless, turn'd aside.
Thus Three great Learned Men, of subtil Wit,
(To Silence put) did in One Hour submit
T'a little Woman, crown'd with Wisdom's Bays,
Who, in God's Fear, did celebrate his Praise;
Declaring boldly 'gainst that Worship, which
God ne'er set up, that makes its Merchants Rich.
She lov'd the precious Truth, (plac'd in her Heart)
For which she was Imprison'd; but the smart
Its Adversaries felt: For Joy to her
Thereby accru'd, who did its Cause prefer
Before all Transitories. And, when I
Was Prisoner for the same, it was my Joy,
That she great Exercise did nobly bear,
Therein rejoycing in God's Holy Fear:
Though for her sake, Grief pierced oft my Mind,
Where I the sense did of her Suffering find,
So deep, that from mine Eyes my Sleep withdrew,
And secret Tears did frequently pursue:
Yea, without Outward Notice, once was I,
When she was, by Distemper, like to die,
Made sensible thereof, though in the Goal,
Distant near Forty Miles, and did Condole;
And for her to the Lord I pray'd, whose Ear
Was open, and through Prison-Walls did hear:
And he releas'd her from her Malady,
And me from Prison, her again to see;
Though then Confin'd, as firm as Men could tye;
Praises be to God's Name Eternally.
She sweetly wrote of Charity Divine,
Which in her Heart and Life did clearly shine
In her, to Poor and Rich, to Foe and Friend:
To all in plainness she, with due respect,
Would freely shew her Sense; but to reflect
'Gainst any, being absent, did eschew;
Charity taught her better things to do.
To any, in Affliction, she was free
Advice to give, or help with Remedy,
Where her Endeavours could; which God did bless,
Remarkably, with the desir'd success:
Yea, sometimes, when Physitians had been try'd,
Much Money paid, and still the Cure deny'd
To their Performance, she in freeness gave
What, from Distempers dreadful, prov'd to save.
But Charity in her did farther move
Her tender Heart, in Sympathizing Love,
To use her Tongue or Pen, a Word to give
To Minds in Exercise; which did Relieve,
Convince, or Satisfie, and Strengthen some,
The Race of Vertue in their time to run:
For which, some have good Cause to bless the Name
Of God, from whom those Words with Vertue came.
This is not writ to Magnifie her Praise,
The Praise belongs to God, who first did raise
Her Mind, from things below, to seek his Truth,
Hid in her Heart, in time of tender Youth;
Which, truly sought, she found, and prized more
Than Ophir's Gold, or Pearls of Indian-Shoar.
This taught her to discern the Way of God,
From Ways of Men; this made her love his Rod:
This gave her knowledge of her Duty right
Unto the Lord; this gave her also sight
Into the Properties of needful things,
Of many kinds, that Mortals comfort brings:
This gave her, in her tender Years, to see
The frail Estate of poor Mortality;
The Sense whereof she daily did retain,
Striving, with earnest diligence, to gain
The precious Pearl of Immortality,
As if she knew how short her Time should be;
In hope of which, when painful Death assail'd
Her Mortal Part, her Courage never fail'd;
But did (with Sense as sound as ever) shew
Her true Content, and Satisfaction too,
To leave this World, of true Felicity,
To be possess'd to all Eternity.
The Praise belongs to God, who first did raise
Her Mind, from things below, to seek his Truth,
Hid in her Heart, in time of tender Youth;
Which, truly sought, she found, and prized more
Than Ophir's Gold, or Pearls of Indian-Shoar.
This taught her to discern the Way of God,
From Ways of Men; this made her love his Rod:
This gave her knowledge of her Duty right
Unto the Lord; this gave her also sight
Into the Properties of needful things,
Of many kinds, that Mortals comfort brings:
The frail Estate of poor Mortality;
The Sense whereof she daily did retain,
Striving, with earnest diligence, to gain
The precious Pearl of Immortality,
As if she knew how short her Time should be;
In hope of which, when painful Death assail'd
Her Mortal Part, her Courage never fail'd;
But did (with Sense as sound as ever) shew
Her true Content, and Satisfaction too,
To leave this World, of true Felicity,
To be possess'd to all Eternity.
O may, with me, her Off-spring still remain
In God's pure Fear, Eternal Life to gain:
Then, this short time once past, we may in Peace,
Live with the Just, where Joys shall never cease;
Where we, with her, may Living Praises sing
For ever, to the Lord, the Heavenly King.
In God's pure Fear, Eternal Life to gain:
Then, this short time once past, we may in Peace,
Live with the Just, where Joys shall never cease;
Where we, with her, may Living Praises sing
For ever, to the Lord, the Heavenly King.
Henry Mollineux.
TO THE READER.
The Author of this Miscellaneous Grove,
Was Fruitful both in Vertue and in Love:
Read but the following Lines, and thou may'st find,
She was the Mistress of a Noble Mind;
A Soul, of more than common size, possess'd
Her almost (I had said) too narrow Breast.
True to her Friend, as plainly doth appear,
In dealing plainly with her Friend so dear:
She us'd no Gilded Baits, no Flattery,
No feigned Words, but plain Sincerity;
Which doth bespeak her Love, and Vertue too,
Contended one the other to out-do.
In Numbers sweet, her warbling Pen hath try'd
Unerring Truth from Error to divide:
Her Lines, thus measur'd, have successful been,
To turn the wand'ring Mind to search within;
Where that Invaluable Treasure lies,
Unsought by most, discover'd to the Wise;
But yet conceal'd and hid from Vult'rous Eyes.
'Tis not the common way, I must confess,
To write in Verse; although 'tis ne'ertheless
To be esteem'd; because some do disdain,
And undervalue what they can't attain:
I'd have such unadvised ones to know,
Their Genius perches on a lower Bough,
For want of Wings their untun'd Souls to raise
Unto a Pitch of Harmony and Praise.
Oft have I seen the Lark upon the Wing,
Toward the Sun ascend, and sweetly Sing;
As if she had a Tribute due to pay
Unto the mighty Ruler of the Day,
In well-composed Songs of tuneful Breath,
Such as the Swan repeats before her Death.
Thus was our Author's Noble Faculty
Employ'd, to render thanks, in Melody,
To Him, from whom she did her Life receive;
To Him, who never sparingly doth give
To them that, to his Praise, his Gifts do use,
And with his Blessings don't the World abuse.
'Tis such as these unto the Well can sing,
That bubbles up from the Eternal Spring;
And these alone, that to themselves secure
A place, where Waters fail not, and where Bread is sure.
I'th' Praise of noble Verse, much I might say,
Which, tho' by some abus'd, its Value don't allay.
A Pearl will not the less a Crown adorn,
'Cause by a filthy Swine it hath been worn,
And trampled under Foot; th' intrinsick Price
Will still appear unto the truly Wife.
Was Fruitful both in Vertue and in Love:
Read but the following Lines, and thou may'st find,
She was the Mistress of a Noble Mind;
A Soul, of more than common size, possess'd
Her almost (I had said) too narrow Breast.
True to her Friend, as plainly doth appear,
In dealing plainly with her Friend so dear:
She us'd no Gilded Baits, no Flattery,
No feigned Words, but plain Sincerity;
Which doth bespeak her Love, and Vertue too,
Contended one the other to out-do.
In Numbers sweet, her warbling Pen hath try'd
Unerring Truth from Error to divide:
Her Lines, thus measur'd, have successful been,
To turn the wand'ring Mind to search within;
Where that Invaluable Treasure lies,
Unsought by most, discover'd to the Wise;
But yet conceal'd and hid from Vult'rous Eyes.
'Tis not the common way, I must confess,
To write in Verse; although 'tis ne'ertheless
And undervalue what they can't attain:
I'd have such unadvised ones to know,
Their Genius perches on a lower Bough,
For want of Wings their untun'd Souls to raise
Unto a Pitch of Harmony and Praise.
Oft have I seen the Lark upon the Wing,
Toward the Sun ascend, and sweetly Sing;
As if she had a Tribute due to pay
Unto the mighty Ruler of the Day,
In well-composed Songs of tuneful Breath,
Such as the Swan repeats before her Death.
Thus was our Author's Noble Faculty
Employ'd, to render thanks, in Melody,
To Him, from whom she did her Life receive;
To Him, who never sparingly doth give
To them that, to his Praise, his Gifts do use,
And with his Blessings don't the World abuse.
'Tis such as these unto the Well can sing,
That bubbles up from the Eternal Spring;
And these alone, that to themselves secure
A place, where Waters fail not, and where Bread is sure.
I'th' Praise of noble Verse, much I might say,
Which, tho' by some abus'd, its Value don't allay.
A Pearl will not the less a Crown adorn,
'Cause by a filthy Swine it hath been worn,
And trampled under Foot; th' intrinsick Price
Will still appear unto the truly Wife.
We read in Sacred Writ of some that wore,
The Iewels of the Lord, and play'd the Whore:
We also read, how David, with his Lire,
Could still Saul's Rage, and sooth his secret Fire,
That did his Breast inflame, and Heavenly Thoughts inspire;
How with his Verse, he could his Mind compose,
And lull his Passions to a soft Repose.
His Psalms are full of Hymns and Songs of Praise,
Prophetick Mystick Flights, in heavenly Lays;
Which may suffice to let the Reader know,
He was a Poet, and a Prophet too.
The wisest Prince that ever fill'd a Throne,
Or sway'd a Scepter in the World, was one,
Who of divine and heavenly Love has sang
A Song, which from th'Harmonious Being sprang.
Therefore, kind Reader, don't pre-judge, but try,
And then, no doubt, but in this Harmony,
Thou'lt, to thy Comfort, Satisfaction find,
When Discomposure doth possess thy Mind.
The Iewels of the Lord, and play'd the Whore:
Could still Saul's Rage, and sooth his secret Fire,
That did his Breast inflame, and Heavenly Thoughts inspire;
How with his Verse, he could his Mind compose,
And lull his Passions to a soft Repose.
His Psalms are full of Hymns and Songs of Praise,
Prophetick Mystick Flights, in heavenly Lays;
Which may suffice to let the Reader know,
He was a Poet, and a Prophet too.
The wisest Prince that ever fill'd a Throne,
Or sway'd a Scepter in the World, was one,
Who of divine and heavenly Love has sang
A Song, which from th'Harmonious Being sprang.
Therefore, kind Reader, don't pre-judge, but try,
And then, no doubt, but in this Harmony,
Thou'lt, to thy Comfort, Satisfaction find,
When Discomposure doth possess thy Mind.
| Fruits of Retirement | |