The Virgins Pattern in the Life and Death of Susanna Perwich, Poems – To the reader 2

The Virgins Pattern in the Life and Death of Susanna Perwich · Poems – To the reader 2

p. 43Upon the aforeſaid Mrs. SUSANNA PERWICH.

I. A Deſcription of her Perſon.

AMong the many Female Glories,

Which may be ſeen ſometimes in ſtories,

Let candid Readers ſhew us where

She can be found, that may compare

With Her this paper now ſets forth,

Far ſhort of her rare parts and worth.

Her Perſon comely, Red and VVhite,

Mix'd curiouſly, gave great delight.

Pure ſnows, with Rich Vermilions ſtream,

Strawb'ries i'th' Silver diſh of Cream.

Freſh-blown Cornations, Queen-like reigns,

While Violets tincture all her veins.

Straight, Proper, Handſom, every Feature,

Set in due place, made her a Creature.

Much lov'd; let's take a ſpecial view,

Look where you will, you'l find it true.

p. 44Her dark brown Hair, her double mould,

More lovely were, than ſparks of Gold,

Her own meer natural curious Treſſes,

Out-ſhine all adventitious Dreſſes.

Round Argent Brows! whoever mark…

Her ſmooth high Fore-heads Eban-Arks;

Tralucent Temples, through her Locks,

Peer out like Alablaſter Rocks.

From her black jetty ſtarry Eye,

Ten thouſand ſparkling Luſtres flie.

Brave gen'rous Spirits ſiderial,

Move quick about each nimble Ball.

Under a Velvet Coverlet,

Each glittering Star doth riſe and ſet.

Such Eye-lids, fitteſt Caskets be,

For ſuch bright Gems effulgency.

Ouches of Gold, encircling paſſes,

About this pair of burning-glaſſes.

Two Hemiſphears, with two ſuch Suns,

O're Microcoſm's ſeldom runs.

Midſt theſe twin-flames, a marble Mount,

Mounts ridge-wiſe up, down from her front.

On each ſide of which ridge you'l ſpie,

Aurora's Roſy bluſhes lie.

Her ſanguine Checks, like two Queen-apples,

Natures great Artist neetly couples.

Her two Ambroſial ruddy Lips,

In deepeſt Scarlet dye ſhe dips.

Who views her well-ſet poliſh'd Teeth,

Will think two ranks of Pearls he ſeeth.

p. 45Twixt theſe matcht milk-white Ivory rows,

A ſweet breath'd Aromatick ſlows,

All down 'long to her ſwan-like Neck,

Her fine Complexion hath no ſpeck.

Her pair of round Crown'd riſing Hills,

Each moment with new panting fills.

Her ſleck ſoft downy checker'd Wriſts,

Small Azure threads, finely entwiſts.

Her Lilly Hands, long woodbine Fingers,

Hang ever quivering, never lingers,

In trembling ſtrokes, which alwayes ſhe,

Tunes into ſweeteſt Harmony.

I ſcarce ere ſee them, but the ſound,

Of Muſick ſeems thence to rebound.

No Unions, no choice Jewels are,

Found any where, that may compare,

With th'very Nails, or Joynts, or Bones,

That her ten ſiſter-fingers owns.

You'd ſcarce know which are richeſt things,

Her knuckle bones, or Di'mond Rings.

More curious is each Sattin limb,

Than th' ſilken trails that cover him.

Thus if you take her every way,

How lovely ſhe's! what ſhall I ſay?

Her Head, her Face, her every part,

Moſt graceful was, there need no Art,

Be us'd at all, her to adorn,

With Paints or Pearls, ſhe being born,

Natures own Maſter-piece; white Skin,

Roſe-lips, fair Breaſts, ſweet Smiles, and in

p. 46Her gestures ſuch a compound Grace,

Made her to beautifie the place

Where e're ſhe came, her goodly look,

At firſt ſight the beholders took;

And won their hearts immediately,

With her thenceforth to live and dye.

II. Her natural parts.

Yet this is but the out-ſide, we

By looking inwardly ſhall ſee,

More Orient Beams; within her ſhin'd

The choiceſt Beauties; ſhe was lin'd,

With ſtuffe more coſtly there; ſuch Rayes

of Radiancy ſhe thence diſplayes,

As if the Pangloretta ſhe,

Of her whole Sex was made to be.

Her ſharp, ſublime, and pleaſant Wit,

Made her Companion very fit,

For the rich pregnant genious.

Of thoſe were moſt ingenious.

Fine jeſts, quick anſwers readily,

Flow'd from her tongue moſt fluently.

Rhet'rick ſhe had, and Eloquence,

As if ſhe'd been at great expence

In learned Schools: fine ſentences

Dropt from her, great dependences

Were in her words; the ſenſe and matter

Was uſeful, ſolid, ſhe'd not ſcatter

Vain talk, but what beſt profited

Her ſelf and others, that ſhe fed

Their eares withal; what ſhe had learn'd

From well-read Books, and what ſhe earn'd

By her induſtrious Meditations,

Or by her careful obſervations

From others ſpeech, that ſhe laid up,

And therewith made her gueſts to ſup,

When they came in to viſit her,

And to them was an Instructer.

III. Her moral Virtues.

Not raſh, but moſt deliberate

In all things, and conſiderate;

Prudent ſhe was, diſcreet, and wiſe,

Humble and meek, no lofty eyes

In her were ſeen: ſhe never frown'd

With angry looks, ſuch as abound

In rugged tempers; modeſty

In baſhful bluſhes conſtantly

Colour'd her Face; no gariſhneſs,

Or any wanton fooliſhneſs

Stain'd her at all; ſhe much deſi'd

Theſe vices, and them ever fly'd.

Moſt gentle, affable, and kind,

She was to all, you ſcarce could find

One ſo benign; few of this Age,

'Mong young folks, or among the Sage,

Beyond her went in courteſie,

More ready was to gratifie

Favours receiv'd: ſhe would requite

Such kindneſſes with all her might.

p. 48She had a noble generous heart,

As ſhe was able to impart.

IV. Her charity to the Poor.

Where need requir'd ſhe, ſuffer'd none

In vain to her to make their moan.

The meaneſt Beggar at the door

She pittied, and reliev'd the Poor.

By her good will, no one ſhould want,

Specially thoſe in Covenant:

For them it was her chiefeſt care,

When they were ſick, hungry, or bare,

Moſt to refreſh: ſhe would be ſure

Them food and raiment to procure,

Whoever wanted, they ſhould not,

If ſuccour for them could be got.

V. Her ſympathy with the ſuffering ſervants of Chriſt.

Chriſt's ſuffering Members ſhe would viſit,

As oft as time ſerv'd, ſhe'd not miſs it.

The Exile and Impriſonment,

Of ſome dear Friends ſhe'd much lament.

Was their blood ſhed? ſhe felt the dart,

That wounded them, 'twent to her heart,

To think what dark, cloſe, dungeons they

Were ſtifled in, both Night and day.

Great pitty cauſed her to yearn

For them, and all her bowels turn

Within; when ſhe got them among,

Tears from her eyes, and from her tongue

p. 49Sad language flow'd: ſhe did partake

…heir ſorrows, head and heart did ake,

…t thought of what they ſuffer'd; ſhe

…ould not forbear to go and ſee

…ow't far'd with them, though ſhe were ſhent,

And many a precious hour ſhe ſpent,

To comfort them what ſhe was able,

In this their caſe ſo lamentable.

VI. Her partnerſhip in friends afflictions.

Mourn'd others? ſhe in ſympathy

Would mourn alſo, when they did lye,

In any doleful miſery.

Their griefs ſhe alwayes made her own,

And ever greatly did bemoan

Their ſad calamities: her heart

In ſorrows deep did bear a part.

Did Parents ſigh? ſhe ſighed too;

Grieved they? ſhe knew not what to do,

Till ſhe had found out ſome relief,

To caſe the pain of Parents grief.

Were any of her neer Relations,

Afflicted by ſad alterations

…n health, estate, or comforts any,

…er groans were ſuch, her tears ſo many,

…s i… alone concern'd: ſo deep

…ere her reſcentments, ſhe'd ſo weep,

…s if her heart would break aſunder,

…nd the great burden truckle under.

p. 50VII. Her love to peace.

Peace was the darling of her heart,

So that to her no greater ſmart

Could come, then when a diff'rence roſe

Among dear Friends, ſhe'd interpoſe,

And by her wiſe calm moderation,

More firmly knit each dear Relation.

VIII. Her moſt excellent breeding.

Next her improved breeding high

You will perceive now by and by.

No quality or rare perfection,

But 'twas her own, make what election

You pleaſe of moſt deſired skill,

That Females glory in, ſhe will

Excel them all throughout the Town,

Yea Kingdom too, and wear the Crown,

Of a renowned veneration,

From all the reſt of the whole Nation

IX. Her incomparable abilities in Muſick of all ſorts, both vocal and inſtrumental.

Firſt for her Muſick, who can give

Sufficient praiſe? or cauſe it live,

As it deſerves in memory?

And that to all poſterity?

Ask Rogers, Bing, Coleman, and others,

The moſt exactly skilful Brothers:

Ask Brian, Mell, Ives, Gregories,

Hows, Stifkins, all, in whom there lyes,

p. 51Rare Arts of Muſick, they can tell,

How well ſhe ſung: how rarely well

She play'd on ſeveral Inſtruments,

What high admir'd accompliſhments,

She had attain'd to; Angels hands,

On Lute or Viol ſcarce commands

A ſweeter touch; ſhe never ſhall,

Be equall'd by the Nightingale.

If Kings and Princes claim the beſt,

Of Melodies above the reſt,

'Twas ſhe could give them, ſhe alone,

Whether from Art, or natures tone.

So tun'd a voice! ſo ſhrill a ſound,

In Male or Female rarely ſound!

Each Crotchet, Quaver, Minnum, Note,

Kept time within her warbling throat.

Soft, deep, high ſtrains, in treble Song,

Flow'd ſweetly from her ſugered tongue.

No ſtrings of Harp, no Organ Pipe,

Strecht or reach'd higher; ſhe was ripe

Ev'n for the heavenly Chorus; she

Of all ſorts, gave ſuch Harmony.

Where ſhe was ſinging had you come,

By chance into the bliſsful Room,

You'd thought by the melodious Air,

That Quiers of Angels had been there.

Laws, Sympſon, Polewheel, Jenkins, all

'Mong the best Maſters Muſical,

Stand raviſh'd while they hear her play,

And with high admiration ſay,

p. 52What curious ſtrains! what rare diviſions!

Are we not 'mong Celeſtial Viſions!

This is no humane hand! theſe ſtrokes,

The high immortal Spirits provokes

To liſten to her! ſhe playes ſo,

That after her none takes the bow,

To play again; it is too much,

To take the confidence to touch,

The Inſtrument which ſhe laid down,

Or go about to win the Crown,

Which ſhe had ſet on her own head,

With Lawrels all enamelled.

No, no, they muſt wholly deſpair,

To give one ſuch delicious Air

Of which ſhe millions gave; each touch

To moſt judicious ears was ſuch,

So ſweet, ſo quick, ſo dainty, rare,

That nothing could therewith compare.

No ſtrain but was incomparable,

And by mens Art inſuperable.

The deepeſt grounds where utmoſt skill,

Of a rich fancy lay, ſhe ſtill

Moſt finely nick'd; her nimble Arm,

Still made a moſt delicious Charm.

Quick numerous motions ſhe would show,

With her ſwift, gliding, jumping bow.

Even in a moment ſhe would meaſure,

Thouſands of ſtrokes, with eaſe and pleaſure,

Where others hundreds ſcarce could reach,

Though ſuch as moſt profeſt to teach.

p. 53All this, both by her hand and brain,

Without the leaſt toil, labour, pain.

X. Her handſom ſitting at her Muſick

No Antick geſtures, or bold face,

No wrigling motions her diſgrace.

While ſhe's at play, nor eye, nor head,

Hither or thither wandered.

Nor nods, nor heaves in any part,

As taken with her own rare Art.

All vain conceited affectation,

Was unto her abomination.

With body ſhe ne're ſat aſcue,

Or mouth awry, as others do.

Careleſs ſhe ſeem'd, as if her mind,

Were ſomewhere elſe, and yet we find

Performances to admiration,

And our exceeding delectation.

XI. A moſt curious dancer.

As hand and tongue, her feet alſo,

She curiouſly had taught to go.

Her motions meaſure all the ground

Exactly, while ſweet Muſicks ſound:

That whoſoe're obſerv'd her tread,

Muſt needs be much enamoured.

If French or Engliſh Dances were

An ornament, how finely there!

Did ſhe out-do all ſhe came neer;

To th' wonderment of them that ſee her?

p. 54XII. A Compoſer.

As Leſſons ſhe, ſo Dances too,

When old were ſpent, could make more new.

Maſters themſelves, ſound at the cloſure,

A curious skill in her compoſure.

Then to preſerve her memory,

Oh let them alwayes practis'd be!

And to keep up their Authors fame,

Oh let them alſo bear her Name!

XIII. Good at the Pen.

She writ well, cypher'd, caſt account,

Could tell to what the ſums amount

Spent in the Houſe, and greater too,

If need requir'd, as oft as you

Demanded it; fair letters write,

Pregnant, with ſenſe, worthy the ſight

Of learned Secretaries. She

In needles Art attain'd to be

XIV. Her rare skill in all ſorts of Works.

Perfectly curious; every work

In which a cunning skill did lurk,

She had it at her fingers end,

And lov'd therein ſit time to ſpend.

In black-works, white-works, colours all,

That can be found on earths round ball,

She did excell. Wax, Straws and Gum,

Silks, Gems, and Gold, the total ſum

p. 55Of rich materials ſhe diſpos'd

In dainty order, and compos'd

Pictures of men, birds, beaſts, and flow'rs,

When leiſure ſerv'd at idle hours.

All this ſo rarely to the Life,

As if there were a kind of ſtrife,

'Twixt Art and Nature: Trees of fruit,

With leaves, boughs, branches, body, root,

She made to grow in Winter time,

Ripe to the eye, eaſie to climbe.

Buds, bloſſoms, foldings, Sunny beams,

In checkered ſhadowings finely ſtreams,

Among the thickeſt cluſters there,

Whether of Apple, Cherry, Pear.

Here hangs a Plumb, a Strawberry,

An Orange there, a Goſeberry,

An Hony-ſuccle, July flower,

Wetted as 't were from a freſh ſhower.

The Roſe, the Violet, the Lilly,

The goodly Tulip, Daffadilly,

With many more varieties,

Of natures chiefeſt rarities.

XV. Her great humility in the midſt of all her excellencies

All theſe rich qualities ſhe had,

Moſt beauteouſly and bravely clad

With ornaments of every kind,

Whether for body or for mind.

And yet which was the Crown of all,

She was not touch'd with pride at all.

No vain conceit puff'd up her heart,

VVith thoughts of this her great deſert.

Although there was a glorious ſound,

VVent of her worth, all England round,

In London, when great meetings were

Of curious eares, which here and there

Lay ſcatter'd, and were got together,

And one much pleaſed with another,

In their own Muſicks, yet ſhe ſtill

The Lawrel bears, not any will

Farther contend when ſhe hath play'd,

But down their Inſtruments all lay'd.

Yet notwithſtanding this, when even

She was again deſir'd, ſhe never

By her good will would come again,

'Twas not her pleaſure, but her pain,

To hear her own admired Name

Sounded with golden trump of fame.

VVhen commendations 'fore her face,

Her high encomia's did enchaſe;

When tongues of Strangers could not hold

Till they her praiſe to all had told,

Yea to her ſelf too, yet her ear

Ne're liſten'd to't, 'twas her great fear,

Leſt ſome black evil her ſhould ſeize,

If puff'd up by ſuch things as theſe.

XVI. Gives God the glory of All her ric… qualities.

Bleſſings ſhe did acknowledge them,

And often ſaid, ſhe ſhould condemn

p. 57Her ſelf of much ingratitude,

And not her duty underſtood,

Unleſs ſhe very thankful were

To him that of all gifts that are,

The fountain is, to him alone,

She joy'd to give what was his own:

And with the beſt of all ſhe had

Sincerely ſerve him, and make glad,

Her pious friends, that earneſtly,

Pray'd for this her humility.

XVII. Abominates black ſpots.

Black ſpots to her abominable

Were alwayes held, nor was ſhe able

To bear their ſight, ſhe did complain,

Till they were taken off again,

Where e're ſhe ſaw them, her ſelf ever

So much deteſted them that never

Durſt ſhe wear them, for well ſhe knew,

If ſhe had don't ſhe muſt renew

Repentance for't: ſhe'd ne're diſgrace,

God's workmanſhip in her own face,

Whoſe luſtre never ſhineth leſs,

Than when in ſuch an whoriſh dreſs.

XVIII. And nakedneſs.

Nor naked was her back or breaſt,

What was moſt chaſte ſhe loved beſt.

Whisks, Handcherchiefs, ſhe'd always wear,

Where others ſhameleſly went bare.

p. 58They yet live whom ſhe carefully

Conſulted, what moſt lawfully

In all parts of her garb ſhe might

Wear without ſin, and do what's right.

She ne're would in the leaſt deſire,

Uncomelineſs in her attire.

XIX. Delights in decent and modeſt attire.

Decent ſhe lov'd, and neat to be,

As beſt befitted her degree.

Her Whisks, Quoifs, Hoods, and ſilver purles

Suited her garments ſilken furles.

Fine Bracelets, Ear-rings, Neck-laces,

Sometimes thoſe parts encompaſſes,

That when ſhe led the Dances 'mong

The many beauteous Ladies young,

Which to her Mother's Scoool were ſent,

She might give them the more content.

Yet this to her no pleaſure gave,

For ſhe had rather been more grave,

But that the buſineſs of her place

Required ſuch an handſome grace.

XX. A tranſition from morals to ſupernaturals.

Thus we a little now have ſeen

What were the virtues of this Queen

Of Diamonds, in moral things,

But that which lifts her on the wings

Of higheſt ſame, is yet behind,

The beſt endowments of her mind,

In works of grace and holineſs,

Let's ſee her now in that brave dreſs.

XXI. Her converſion, and the occaſion of it.

That which firſt wrought upon her ſoul,

And did her happy name enrole

Among true Converts, was the Death

Of a dear friend, whoſe mortal breath

Gone ſuddenly, left ſuch impreſſion,

(According to her own confeſſion)

That ſhe enquiring of her God,

What was the meaning of this rod,

'Twas plainly told her, reformation

And not at all her deſolation:

But that her ſouls eternal good

Was only ſought; at which ſhe ſtood

Pauſing a while, and then ſhe ſaid,

Is this the reaſon God hath laid

His rod upon me? I'le repent

Of every ſin, I'le now relent;

I'le ſearch my heart, I'le try my wayes,

I'le hearken what my conſcience ſayes,

Concerning mine eternal ſtate,

And what is like to be my ſate;

Leſt I likewiſe ſurprized be,

By ſudden death as well as he.

XXII. Her ſelf-examination.

Thus firſt reſolving ſhe proceed…,

Examins Thoughts, and words, and deeds,

Compares them with God's holy Word,

To ſee wherein her deareſt Lord

Offended was, and what the ſpring,

Such filthy noiſom ſtreams did bring,

Wherewith ſhe was polluted ſo,

And did a freſh ſtill overſlow

So faſt upon her; laſt ſhe ſpyes

Whence 'twas, and then aloud ſhe cryes

XXIII. Her ſight of Original ſin, with the danger of it.

O my great Sin Original,

Hence, hence, my foul corruptions all

Boil up, break forth, contaminate

What e're I do, communicate

Abominations ugly ſtain

To my beſt actions; hence my pain,

Even from the grand iniquity

Of Father Adam wickedly

Rebelling 'gainſt his Maker, when

In's loyns lay all the ſons of men.

Then I among the rest was there,

And in that ſin had equal ſhare!

Oh how I am indrencht all o're,

In that abominable gore!

How filth, and ſin, and miſery,

And even a Helliſh ſlavery

Inthrals me now! what hideous crimes

Grow thick upon me! how betimes

Each morning doth my naughty heart

Caſt forth its filth! how many a dart

p. 61All the day long do I ſend out

'Gainſt Heaven in my rebellion ſtout!

As full of poyſon as the Toad!

Or Serpents which lye on the road,

With ſpeckled skin, but venom'd head,

Indangering all that on them tread!

XXIV. She complains of temptations from ſin and Satan.

Satan ſtill tempts me every day,

Yea hour and minute, there's no way

Left open for me to eſcape

His fierce aſſaults, the ugly ſhape,

Of ſome new guilt or other ſtill

Deforme my heart, my mind, and will.

No ſooner are his evil motions,

Suggeſted to me, or his potions

Of poys'nous luſts in's golden cup,

To my vile ſenſes offer'd up,

But I embrace them, and comply

With his allurements preſently.

Baſe my affections! baſe my heart!

Oh how the dread of 't makes me ſtart!

To think how dangerous is my caſe,

And that the only proper place,

For ſuch a ſinner is to fry;

In Holl's hot fire eternally.

XXV. Cryes out to God for ſtrength againſt them, and for a thorough work of ‖ Grace in her heart.

Thus, thus, ſhe muſes, and then prayes,

God would not leave her in theſe wayes

p. 62Of ſin and death, Oh no ſaid ſhe!

Let God do what he will with me,

Chaſtiſe, afflict, break, bruiſe, correct;

So he'l vouchſafe me to direct

In path of Life, and me tranſlate

Out of this ſinful curſed ſtate,

In which I now by nature lye,

And crown me with the dignity

Of his high favour, mercy, grace,

And cauſe my feet to run the race

Of his Commandements, then I

Nor care to live, nor fear to dye.

When once ſweet influences of Love,

All melt my heart, drop from above.

This, this, is all my ſoul requires,

O let it burn in theſe pure fires!

Theſe Aromaticks! let them give

Their powerful odors, I ſhall live

Beſt in theſe flames; O what a change

Is here! O tell me, is 't not ſtrange!

That ſhe ſhould make ſuch bleſſed uſe

From her friend's Death, thus to produce

Life in her ſelf! therefore it was

She joy'd ſo much, as often as

She ſpake thereof, and plainly found,

God's love to her did more abound,

In taking of that friend away,

Then if he had liv'd to this day.

Such great good ſometimes God intends,

When he ſome ſharp affliction ſends.

p. 63'Twas her own frequent ſaying too,

That all things put together do

Work for the good of thoſe that fear,

And love God, with an heart ſincere.

XXVI. Her progreſs in the work of Grace.

The ground-work thus begun in her

'Bout four years ſince,ſhe did beſtir

Her ſelf to carry on the building,

With precious ſtones, and coſtly guilding.

Her time far ſpent, ſhe now makes haſte,

And by her good will doth not waſte

One minute more; ſhe will redeem

The time that's loſt, a great eſteem

She puts on every perſon, thing,

That helpt reform her wandering.

Now ſhe keeps cloſe to th' good old way,

Careful no more to go aſtray,

But wiſely walks with circumſpection,

And often makes a ſad reflection

Upon her former courſe of life,

Contending with an holy ſtrife,

To go the faſter unto bliſs,

Nor ſtopt till come where now ſhe is.

XXVII. The pains ſhe took for ſound knowledge.

What pains she took fully to know

Sweet heavenly Truths! how she would go

From Book to Book! to catechiſe,

Her ſelf where the foundation lyes.

p. 64In Perkins, Baal, or any other

That could teach better than other.

XXVIII. Writes diligently at Church.

The paper Books, and Sermon notes,

She left behind, plainly denotes,

With how much reverend care she did

Receive God's Word, and wiſely hid

It in her heart; she would repeat

Choice paſſages, and made the ſeat

Of what she heard her heart to be,

More than her writing Book we ſee.

When she came home, she did retire,

On the Lord's Dayes, and much enquire

What she had miſs'd of what was ſaid,

And when her Notes she over read,

Soon mended, if they wanting were

With a devout Religious care.

XXIX. Seeks bleſſing upon what ſhe hears by prayer.

This being done it was not all

Sh'was wont to do, for she would call

For bleſſing on't, with bended knees,

From him whoſe eye in ſecret ſees.

Ejaculations from her heart,

She'd frequently to Heaven dart.

No time ſo pleaſant as the Night,

When she might moſt be out of ſight.

No place by her ſo much deſir'd,

As where she might be moſt retir'd,

…ar from all noiſe and obſervation,

…o pour out her ſouls warm devotion.

When she ſometimes could not be ſound,

…he'd hid her ſelf, where the ſweet ſound

Of her deep ſighings, ſobs, and cryes,

Might ſecretly to Heaven riſe,

…nheard of any but his ears,

Who knew her thoughts, and ſaw her tears.

XXX. Hates vain Books, but ſtudies the Bible much.

Vain wanton Books her ſoul abhorr'd,

As an offence to her dear Lord.

The Bible was her chiefeſt Book,

In which her practiſe was to look

And read, and meditate all day,

As oft as she could get away

From other bus'neſs; her great care

Was to grow rich in knowledge there.

Hard queſtions ſometimes she would put,

And lik'd the Anſwers which beſt cut

All knots; she was inquiſitive,

That she her heart as a large hive,

Might fill with hony combes of Truth,

On which she ſuck'd thus in her Youth.

Such Keyes she uſed frequently,

That open'd Wards which eaſily

Would not give way without: her minde,

With heavenly thoughts she thus refin'd.

XXXI. What good Books ſhe read, and what was her evening and morning Work.

The Works of Watſon, Shepherd, Love,

Goodwin, and Spurſtow, to improve

Was her endeavour and delight,

As much as might be, day and night.

Some one of theſe ſhe alwayes kept

At her Beds head, and 'fore ſhe ſlept,

Did read an hour and ſometimes more,

That laden with a precious ſtore,

She might take reſt, and when her eyes

Firſt open'd, 'fore ſhe 'gan to riſe,

She did revolve what ſhe had read,

The night before within her Bed.

While in the morning others ſlept,

She meditated, pray'd, and wept.

XXXII. Sins of omiſſion trouble her.

Sins of omiſſion many times,

Touch'd her as much as acted crimes.

If ſhe were heavy, dead, or dull

At Holy Duties, it did pull

Her heart much more with inward grief,

Than if by hands of wretched Thief

Her choiceſt treaſures all were loſt,

Wherein was greatest worth and cost.

XXXIII. Her delight in the Sabbath, and the duties of it.

When Sabbaths came or Sacrament,

Her devout ſoul then ſtrongly went

To celebrate thoſe bleſſed ſeaſons,

With ardent zeal: no carnal reaſons

Prevail'd with her, to take her off;

Nor aking head, nor painful cough

XXXIV. She ſees a need of Chriſt in all.

Could ever cool her hot affection,

Yet ſtill complain'd of imperfection

In all her duties, and then cry'd,

Oh wo to me! had not Chriſt dy'd

To purifie my holy things:

Thus by her Faith ſhe often brings,

What Chriſt had done and ſuffer'd too,

To her own heart; and this ſhe'd do

Continually, on all occaſions,

When Satan came with his invaſions.

XXXV. She is careful about Chriſt's pure Worſhip.

Pure Doctrine, Worſhip, Diſcipline,

In her ſouls eye did brightly ſhine.

To theſe her heart was ſo endear'd,

That their pollutions she much fear'd.

XXXVI. She fears her own ſtrength if called to ſuffering.

Sighing she ſaid, O how shall I

Suffer for Chriſt! him to deny

How grievous is't! and yet how weak

Am I to bear! ſure 't will ſoon break

My feeble ſpirit in bonds to lye,

When I am call'd to testifie

The truths I own: the times may come,

When a fierce cruel Martyrdom,

May true Believers portion be;

And if it chance to fall on me,

What shall I do? I'm full of care,

Leſt I in ſufferings loſe my share.

And yet I tremble at the thought

Of thoſe ſad ſorrows may be brought

Upon me, for the Goſpel's ſake,

Of which I now profeſſion make.

However I will learn to truſt

Him whoſe performances are juſt,

His many gracious Promiſes

Contain in them great ſollaces,

Which ne're yet fail'd, when truſted on,

And by true faith rely'd upon.

Beſides I'm much refreſhed by

The thoughts of that good Company,

Which in their ſufferings altogether,

Will much encourage one another.

XXXVII. She had many profers for marriage.

Many there were ſought her good will,

Rich, handſom, beautiful, but ſtill

She them refus'd, she ne're would Wed,

Or cared for the marriage Bed,

Till ſuch a one a Suiter came,

That felt the love, ador'd the Name

Of her dear God: till she could ſay,

He was a man could warmly pray,

And firſt in Chriſts own boſom lay.

XXXVIII. Her company was loved, and much deſired by friends.

So ſweet she was, courteous and kind,

And in all hearts ſo much entwin'd,

That whoſoever knew her would

Do to the utmoſt what they could,

With Father, Mother, to prevail

For her Converſe: they would not fail,

As oft as might be, her to get

Abroad with them, and ſcarce would let

Her return home in many dayes,

Deſiring rather she alwayes

Might ſtay with them. But oh the fate!

That by ſuch means she felt of late!

For when at a friends houſe she meets,Her ſickneſs unto death, with the occaſion of it.

And lodgeth there, behold damp sheets

Cling cloſe about her in the Bed,

At which she waking ſaid, I'm dead:

And ſo it prov'd, alas! for wo!

At thought on't I'm afflicted ſo!

That briniſh tears drop from mine eyes,

My heart with throbs, and inward cryes,

All broken is! what shall I ſay?

She's thus untimely ſnatcht away!

Shall I the careleſs Maid go blame?

And tell her what a horrid shame,

It is, that by her negligence,

So choice a one is loſt from hence?

p. 72Alas! alas! it is no boot,

She was permitted thus to do't,

God's own o're-ruling Providence

Was pleas'd it ſelf thus to diſpenſe.

XXXIX. The manner of her ſickneſs, and how grievous.

What I therefore shall further do,

Will our ſad griefs yet more renew,

In telling what her ſickneſs was,

And that therein she lay ev'n as

Upon a rack, in torments great,

The pain whereof made her to ſwea…,

And us to weep 'bout her beds ſide,

And with our floods raiſe a full tide.

XL. Her patience and ſubmiſſion unto God, under all her pains.

O God! O God! she often cry'd,

And on his Goodneſs ſtill rely'd,

To be ſupported and preſerv'd,

Till she with Patience fully ſerv'd

His holy Will; 'midſt all her grief

This was to her a great relief,

To think that ſtill within his hand

She ſafely lodg'd, and his command

As much obey'd in what she felt,

As when upon her knees she knelt.

No froward word, fell from her lips,

When tortures wreſted hands and hips,

Convulſive motions, Mother fits,

New ſorrows night and day begets,

And yet ſhe's ſilent, 'cauſe ſhe knows,

'Twas God alone that ſent theſe throws.

XLI. A cloud of fear comes, but vaniſheth again.

One time a little fear her ſeiz'd,

But preſently her heart was eas'd,

As careful ſtanders by did find

By th' ſweet expreſſions of her mind.

Shall I think God hath me forſaken

Saith ſhe? ſince Chriſt the load hath taken

Of all my ſins; no, I'le not dread

Nor ſin, nor Satan, when I'm dead,

I doubt not, but in Bliſs to be,

And beatiſick Viſions ſee.

XLII. Her thankfulneſs when a little eaſed.

When God was pleas'd her to revive

A little, and make her alive

Again, as 'twere, from pangs of death,

Theſe words ſhe utter'd at next breath.

Pray Siſter tell me, what's the date

Of this good day? I'le celebrate

Its mem'ry, if I longer live,

And God ſhall pleaſe more time to give.

Then thee and I'le both ſtrive to be

Better by far; the world ſhall ſee,

Our buſineſs is in grace to grow,

And hand in hand to Heaven go.

p. 74XLIII. …he calls for …iends to …ke leave of …hem.

The laſt Tueſday i'th'month of June,

Finding her ſelf much out of tune,

And that her time 'gan to draw nigh,

When ſhe undoubtedly muſt dye,

Her Father, Mother, Siſters all

At midnight ſhe thought fit to call,

Of them to take her ſolemn leave,

And ſo go haſten to receive

A better life, when this ſhould end,

As God at this time did intend.

XLIV. Her ſpeeches …o them.

For ſev'ral hours ſuch exhortation

She gave them all, to admiration,

Speeches ſo grave, ſo wiſe, ſo good,

And all ſo plainly underſtood,

So ſage, ſo ſerious, ſo religious,

So full of prudence, ſo ingenious,

That every word went to the heart

Of thoſe that heard them, every part

Of her diſcourſe ſo profited,

That all the while their tears were ſhed

So much the faster, and the thought

This precious Life could not be bought

At any rate, but muſt be loſt

From all friends here, O how it coſt

Thouſands of groans all that night long!

At every word fell from her tongue.

p. 75XLV. Her Legacies left in memorial of her.

When ſhe had ſpoke her mind at large,

And to all there had given charge,

Of love, ſweet unity, and peace

After ſhe ſhould have her releaſe

From hence, then with her Fathers leave,

'Twas her deſire each ſhould receive

Some token from her, to be kept

By them that round about her wept.

Her Rings, her Books, her Inſtruments,

Her Works, her Cloaths, her Ornaments,

Of every ſort, ſhe parted ſo,

That every one their own might know.

XLVI. Eſpecially thoſe to the Gentlewomen of the School.

But among all her Legacies,

Some of the very beſt were theſe.

To the young Ladies of the School,

The holy Scriptures Criſtal pool

She did commend, to waſh their eyes,

When they firſt in the mornings riſe.

By ſweet devotions ſhe deſir'd,

They'd labour to get their hearts fir'd

As oft as might be, wanton Books

To throw away, and ſober looks

Bring alwayes when they did attend

The publick Ord'nance, and to ſpend

Their precious time on the Lord's Day,

Not in vain dreſſings, but to pray,

Reade, meditate, and ſo improve

Thoſe holy hours in pureſt love

p. 76To heavenly things. Thus far she went,

And then began to be quite ſpent.

XLVII. Her mind is Heavenward.

When a friend ask'd her how she found

Her ſelf next day? with a low ſound

She ſaid, I go to Heaven, I

Now haſten thither, thither flye

As faſt as may be, on the wings

Of faith and hope, where Angels ſings.

Yet after this ſhe lingred out

Another full whole week about,

And ſome hours more, in torments great,

Yet not perceiv'd at all to fret

Againſt Gods hand, but quietly

Reſign'd her ſelf in peace to dye.

XLVIII. She foretels the hour of her Death, which proved accordingly.

On Munday Morning 'fore ſhe dy'd,

Two dayes and half ſhe often cry'd,

And then ſhall my ſoul be at reſt,

In my Lords boſom, and be bleſt.

She ſaid ſo, and it proved ſo,

As if her Lord was pleas'd to ſhow

This ſecret to her, for at noon

Next Wedneſday, her breath, how ſoon

Was't gone? in a weak ſilent groan,

And we left mourning all alone!

You that late toll'd her paſſing-bell,

May haſten now to ring her Knell.

She's dead! ſhe's dead! there's no more hope

Of her Life here, the onelyonly Scope

She aim'd at, now ſhe doth enjoy,

Whilſt ſore afflictions us annoy.

XLIX. She is wholly taken up with thoughts of Christ, and coming to him.

All ſhe ſought was a better Life,

And to become the Lambs dear Wife.

His Jewels, Bracelets, righteous Robes,

His blood, his Spirit, his starry Globes,

Her eye and heart were eager after;

The hopes of theſe fill'd her with laughter

Amidſt the many ſcreeks and tears,

She met with from the King of fears.

Faith, Love, Humility, each grace

Shin'd bright in her, the lovely face

Of her dear Lord when firſt ſhe ſpy'd,

She car'd not then how ſoon ſhe dy'd.

That thus adorn'd ſhe might be bold

To ſtand before him, and behold

Thoſe radiatures that glitter there,

Where the eternal bliſſes are.

How ſwift her motions were! that thither

She might come richly laden, whither

Pure ſpirits flye, till ſhe had got

The place where lay her goodly lot.

How reſtleſs was ſhe! therefore flies

On wings of Angels 'bove the skies,

Before we thought on't, up ſhe goes,

In glorious Chariots, where no ſoes

Of ſin or death moleſt her more,

Which wrack'd her here with pains ſo ſore.

L. The lamentation over her dead body upon the floor.

While ſhe lyes dead upon the floor,

How friends ſtand weeping at the door!

While ſhe is in her Night clothes dreſt,

How ſweet her ſmiles are 'bove the reſt

That yet ſurvive! how many kiſſes

On her dead face! there's none that miſſes

To take their farewel. Oh! how many

Came crowding in! there was not any

But long'd to ſee her once again,

While ſhe above ground did remain.

What floods of tears there now did meet

On her pale cheeks, and winding-ſheet!

All eyes about her full of bubbles,

And all their hearts too, full of troubles.

They wring their hands, lift up their voice

Aloud in cryes, and mournful noiſe.

LI. The neighbours lament her loſs.

And now when theſe ſad tydings came

Abroad i'th' Town, and when the ſame

Began to ſpread the City round,

And the whole Country. Oh the ſound!

Of deep fetcht ſighs that you might hear,

In ev'ry place! how many a tear

Fell from the eyes of all that knew,

How great, how ſore this loſs! more true,

p. 79And general griefs were never known,

In any age, for ſuch an one.

She liv'd deſir'd, lamented dy'd,

Who lov'd her now 'twas fully try'd:

Both far and neer all England o're

She'l be bewail'd by thouſands more.

LII. How dutiful ſhe was and tender of her aged Father.

No Father e're more dearly lov'd

A child; no child yet ever prov'd

More gracious, dutiful, and tender

To a dear Father, ſhe would render

What e're to th' utmoſt ſhe could give,

To make her Father's comforts live:

The chief ſtaff of his age ſhe was,

The greateſt ſtay. Alas! alas!

What ſtayes are theſe to lean upon!

Broken ſo ſoon! and ſo ſoon gone!

LIII. Her Funeral ſolemnity.

At her ſad parting Funeral,

What num'rous eyes were weeping all!

What aking hearts! what heavy looks!

What overflowing ſpreading brooks

Of ſurging ſorrows! mourning blacks,

Scarfs, Gloves, Wine's given, nothing lacks

To celebrate the Obſequies

Of her that thus lamented dyes.

Great pitty 'twas, ſaid old and young,

As ſhe i'th' room ſtood them among,

In Velve… Herſe, with Garlands crown'd,

And her Companions weeping round.

Friends, Neighbours, and acquaintance all

Came flocking in both great and ſmall,

To mourn for this rare flower of youth,

And follow her to the graves mouth.

At her Interments lamentation,

So crowded was the Congregation,

That He the Word did then diſpenſe

Scarce ſaw a greater audience,

On ſuch occaſion, in that place:

'Tis Hackney Church, where her ſweet face

Now hidden lyes, cover'd with duſt,

While her bleſt ſoul among the juſt

Sings and triumphs. Well! ſhe is gone,

What now remains more to be done?

Though her griefs end, our agonies

Thus now begin ſad Elegies.

LIV. An Elegy upon her Death.

Deep ſighs! torn hearts! wet eyes! bemoan

The Miſtris of our joyes; each groan

Lament the loſs that Ages paſt

N'ere knew ſo manifold, make haſt

To drop your Pearls upon her Herſe,

And cauſe her live in mournful Verſe.

Come Parents dear, weep o're your child,

On which you have ſo often ſmil'd.

Come Muſick Masters, hear the tone

She trils forth in her dying groan.

Come Ladies lay your Ivory hand

On her ſoft skin, a while here ſtand,

To ſee what difference ſickneſs makes

On fairest beauties, when it takes

Colour, and freſhneſs quite away,

As 'twill from all of you one day.

Come Brethren, Siſters, Kindred all,

And ſee how vain it is to call

Her back again, ſhe hears no more,

Now ſhe's arriv'd at th' other ſhore.

Come Strangers which ſo raviſh'd were

With many a curious dainty Air,

That ſhe was wont to melodize

Into your ears, before your eyes.

Come young ones ſee what here lyes cropt,

A Roſe in 'ts bloom, the Tree is lopt,

While yet the fruit remain'd upon 't,

Before 't had time to ripen on 't.

Come all her old acquaintances,

See now in deaths black ballances

What your weight is, when life is gone,

It may be your own caſe anon.

Come Virgins wreath your flowers about

Your Garlands, as you carry her out.

Your turns will come ere long to go,

The ſame way too, it muſt be ſo.

Take Patterns from her Virtues rare,

That you with her in bliſs may ſhare.

LV.

Mean while, Alas! what ſhall we ſay,

From whom ſhe's now thus fled away?

The ſables of the darkeſt night

Take place while ſhe is out of ſight,

The boauteous heaven ne're ſhed ſuch beams,

As ſlow'd from her in golden ſtreams.

Luſters of Grace out-ſhine the rayes

Of the bright Sun, ev'n at noon dayes.

Now theſe abſenting diſappear,

What have we left our hearts to cheer?

The Garden which ſhe viſited,

No Garden is now ſhe is dead.

No Walks, no Arbors, beds of flowers

Smel ſweet, no artificial bowers

Give us content, now ſhe is gone,

And we left in them all alone.

Within doors there's no Company,

For want of her Society.

Her ſingle ſelf was more than many,

Too fill her room up there's not any,

'Mong our remaining ſocials left,

Alas! alas! we are bereft,

Of ſuch a full Conſort in one,

That all our Muſicks now are gone.

Lute, Viol, Song-book, altogether,

Cannot make up ſuch another.

Where once her meaſuring feet did tread,

Alas! we now our tears do ſhed,

And wet the floor, our trembling hearts

…n ſorrowing motions act their parts.

No Dances, Voices, Leſſons, more,

We muſt expect from her; our ſore

Is very grievous! who can tell

How ſuch ſtrong paſſions to repel?

Which in renewed ſurges riſe,

From our ſad hearts and watry eyes.

LVI. Another Elegy.

Indeed if ſhe could once again

Appear as formerly, our pain

Would ſoon aſſwage; her warbling arm,

Soft touch, ſweet voice, would quickly charm

Our doleful plaints, her Muſick ſtrains

More cordial were than all the grains

Of rich Ingredients Doctors give,

To make their dying Patients live.

If precious, Powders, Pearls, or Gold

Could ſave Life, ſhe had liv'd till old.

No Syrrups, Liquors, Tulips, Gems,

Can ſo far ſap dry wither'd ſtems,

As to revive them, one cold breath

Quite kills them, from the mouth of death.

But ſtay a while, methinks I hear

Her rare ſet melodies ſo clear,

As if her own well tuned head,

At ſound thereof roſe from the dead.

Others when neither heart nor life

Seem'd to remain in them, the ſtrife

Betwixt her hand and Inſtrument,

So fill'd them with a rare content,

That out of deepeſt ſadneſs they

Cheerful and pleaſant went away.

And may not ſuch effects as theſe

Give us alſo a little eaſe?

From the ſame Muſicks? Alas! no!

All that now proves but a vain ſhow.

LVII. What her friends ſhould do now ſhe is gone.

What once we heard, muſt hear no more.

Our buſineſs now is to deplore

What cannot be recall'd, and ſtrive,

To do as ſhe did when alive.

Pray, Read, Diſcourſe, and Meditate

Of what concerns our future ſtate.

This was her work, her greateſt joy,

She counted all the world a toy,

Compar'd with this. Her heavenly King

She long'd to go to, long'd to ſing

In that loud Chorus, ſweeter layes,

And from her ſoul tune higher praiſe,

Then lungs or fingers here could make,

Even then when oft her head did ake.

Her Viol-ſtrains, her Vocal trils,

We ne're would miſs with our good wills,

Though ſhe was wont oft to complain,

She play'd and ſung in no ſmall pain.

Willing ſhe was at any time,

To help ſuch hearts, as fain would climb

Into celeſtial thoughts, all theſe,

In love to Chriſt, ſhe lov'd to pleaſe.

Thinking no better uſe could be,

Of her ſweet Muſicks harmony.

LVIII. Her, paſſage towards Heaven.

At laſt when ſhe had run her race

Alotted here, ſhe ſpeeds apace

To her dear God, with many a groan

She cryes to him, and makes her moan,

That weary of this world ſhe'd fain

Return her ſpirit to him again.

And ſo ſhe did, to Heaven ſhe hy'd,

Where now ſhe lives Chriſts joyful bride.

His ornaments are now upon her,

His glorious eyes now fixed on her,

Before under her pained head,

While ſhe lay in her dying bed,

His arms encloſed her; but now

He hath fulfill'd his marriage vow,

And taking her up to his Throne,

Gives thouſand ſmiles for every groan.

With new embraces, ſollaces

He kindly now her compaſſes.

In ſtead of this worlds clam'rous noiſe,

Much ſweeter Muſick feeds her joyes.

Her ſongs are now all Hallelujah,

To her eternal King Jehovah.

Oh thither let our ſouls deſire

In divine ardours now expire.

LIX. A review of her.

But ſhall I leave her thus? Ah no!

Methinks I cannot let her go.

Methinks I ſee her in the Walks

About the Garden, where ſhe talks

VVith her own ſoul, unto her Lord

Of thoſe ſweet things which in his word

She then and there had newly read,

And therewith her heart fully fed.

Methinks I ſee her in the room,

VVhere ſhe was daily wont to come,

At meal times ſtill, with ſome good Book,

VVhichWhich alwayes ſhe 'long with her took,

Within her hand, under her arm,

That ſhe her precious ſoul from harm

Might ſafely keep, while thus employ'd,

All her life time untill ſhe dy'd.

Methinks I ſee her in the front,

'Mong the young Ladies ſhe was wont

To lead up, on the dancing dayes,

When friends and ſtrangers came alwayes;

Methinks I ſee her take the Viol,

That ſuch as would …ave no denial,

She might in great civility,

With her ſweet Muſick ſatisfie.

Methinks I ſee her, here and there,

Above, below ſtairs, every where,

With pleaſant look, with cheerful eye,

And kind ſalutes, ſtill paſſing by.

Alas! alas! ſhall I no more

See her, as I was wont before!

She's gone! ſhe's gone! what ſhall I ſay?

We muſt all follow the ſame way.

Who knows how ſoon? we muſt all come,

As well as ſhe to the cold tomb.

LX. An exhortation to repentance, and preparation for death

Shall we then any more delay

Speedy repentance? ſince each day,

Each hour, each minute, may cut off

Our thread of life? ſince one ſmall cough

May quickly waſte us? or conſumption

Soon end us? Oh! let no preſumption

Poſſeſs the healthy, luſty, young,

Though ne're ſo well, though ne're ſo ſtrong,

In flower of Age, in heat of youth,

In vigor, freſhneſs, yet how doth

Death ſeize on them with his cold blaſte;

And cauſe them fall at's foot as faſt

As leaves from Trees? fears he to blow

On any mortal wight? ah no!

When their time's ſpent, and hour is come,

To others they muſt yeeld their room.

What do we talk of weeks, dayes, hours?

When we can't ſay one moments ours;

The diſtance 'twixt our life and death,

…s't any more than one ſhort breath?

LXI. No poſſible exemption from death to any, how good or great ſoever.

The richeſt ranſoms cannot give

The greateſt Dons the leaſt reprieve.

No heaps of gold, no Counſels deep,

Can any one from a grave keep.

No honours, beauties, riches, wealth,

Wiſdom or learning can give health,

Or ſave ones life a moment more,

Then was appointed long before.

As goodneſs, ſo nor greatneſs can

Prolong the time of our ſhort ſpan.

Dukes, Nobles, Earls, Kings, Princes, Queens

As well as others, deaths black ſcreens

Shall ſurely viſit, the ſame ſhades

They muſt paſs through, ſame diſmal glades

Shall ſeize on them too, they ſhall have

Experience of the darksom grave.

Where ſmell, nor colour in their duſt

Shall make a difference, they all muſt

Be equall there; Scepters and Spades

Are much as one, where death invades.

Gyants and Babes are both alike

To him, when his keen darts do ſtrike.

He gives to all a conquering charge,

And in that war there's no diſcharge.

Monarchs and Beggars the ſame ſtate

Have after long, or later date.

Nor Robes, nor Crowns, nor ſplendid Throne

Fence Royal hearts from dying groans.

p. 89No Kingdoms, Armies, Empires can

Here priviledge the mightieſt man.

Then midſt great banquets, ſports, and pleaſure

Should not the greateſt Prince ſind leiſure,

To meditate on this ſad fate,

Which him alſo early or late,

Moſt certainly will ſeize upon?

He ne're grows wiſe till this be done.

LXII. The exhortation to prepare for death re-enforced.

This being ſo, and needs muſt be

Without prevention, as we ſee,

Shall we remain still in the deep

Of ſins ſecurity; and ſleep

Our ſelves to death? ſhall we not riſe

With quickeſt ſpeed, and rub our eyes?

That we may clearly ſee the way,

Where we were wont to go aſtray,

…t to avoid? and chuſe the road,

That they went in, whoſe bleſt abode,

…s now in Heaven? if we do not

Thus here, even as our bodies …ot

…n ſlime and filth, our ſouls alſo

Laden with ſin, to Hell muſt go.

LXIII. How to become fit to dye, and the fruit of it.

…hould we not then be alwayes ready

When death us calls? and with a ſteady

Hand of true faith take a ſtrong hold

…n Chriſt? that ſo we may be bold

p. 90Deaths face to look on without fear,

When e're he ſhall to us appear?

Ghaſtly and grim his viſage is,

Yet he ſhall ſend us up to bliſs.

His killing darts, his cruel ſtings

Ne're hurt the good, no terror brings.

Faith, Holineſs, Sincerity,

Makes death a precious Legacy

To gracious hearts; it them tranſmits

Thither where each believer ſits

Surrounded with moſt glorious grace,

Reflected from his Saviours face.

And where now ſhe's in high content,

Whom we below here thus lament.

LXIV. A ſerious exhortation to the Gentlewomen, that either are or have been of the School.

Now you young Ladies of the School,

Leſt your affections grow too cool.

Sit down, conſider well your caſe,

Have any of you firmer place

Than ſhe? in this worlds tottering frame

Are not you all o'th' very ſame

Mould as ſhe was? may not your lot

Be th' very next to her? are not

The ſame infirmities in you?

Same weakneſs, frailties, cauſes too

Of ſin and death? have you exemption

More than the reſt? can a redemption

Be gained for you more than other,

By power, or favour, 'bove another?

p. 91Tell me, what is the priviledge

That you can for your ſelves allege?

Are you young? handſom? beautiful?

Could not ſhe ſay as much to th' full

As moſt of you? have you rare parts?

Or are you skill'd in curious Arts

In Works? or Muſicks? any thing?

That's excellent? can you play? ſing?

Beyond all humane expectation,

Even unto greateſt admiration?

All this ſhe did, and yet we ſee,

Her under ſtroke of death to be.

Have you more honours? riches? wealth?

A greater ſhare in ſtrength or health?

Well! be it ſo; will this avail

To give you reſcue? will death fail

One moment of his time? or will

He make long ſtay for you, untill

You ready are; at your requeſt?

And ſo ſpare you above the reſt?

What warrant have you ſor't? will he

By greateſt offers bribed be?

Or will he at your ſtern command

Forbear a while, and make a ſtand?

If this would cauſe him not to ſtrike,

Or diſappear, then ſure 'tis like,

…or great, nor ſmall, rich, poor would dye,

…ut either would command or buy

…ife for themſelves, and ſtill renew

…r words, or gifts, as dangers grew

p. 92From their diſeaſes, or old age,

What e're they had, they'd ſtill engage

New ſums, for a new term of years,

To ſave them from the King of fears.

But let's not be deceiv'd, Alas!

Such fine expedient never was

Yet practiſed, nor never will,

But we undoubtedly ſhall ſtill

Find that black fate irrevocable,

Still like himſelf, inexorable.

If Fathers ſighs, or Mothers groans,

If dear Relations doleful moans,

If friends bewailing round about

Could keep out ſickneſs, drive death out;

If briniſh tears or lamentations,

Or the moſt fervent invocations;

If the Phyſitians care and skill,

Or richeſt Cordials in the bill

That he preſcrib'd, could have prevail'd

Her to preſerve, we had not fail'd

Of our deſire, ſhe had not dy'd,

Nor we ſo bitterly have cry'd

For our ſad loſs; what then remains?

But that with all your might and pains

You haſten, and your ſelves apply

To live ſo, as not fear to dye.

She you a lively pattern gave,

So ſerious was ſhe, and ſo grave,

So humble, holy, heavenly;

So much in duties conſtantly,

p. 93So little minded ſhe the pleaſures,

The houſe afforded, or earths treaſures;

So weaned from this world below,

So fast ſhe did to glory go;

And all this daily in your ſight,

Early i'th' morning, late at night;

That if you do not imitate

Theſe her rich qualities, your ſate

Will be moſt lamentable; you

Of all the rest that moſt her knew,

Take heed you do not careleſly

Let ſlip the opportunity,

That yet you have, the precious ſeaſon

Of grace that yet remains, what reaſon

Have you to look for happineſs,

Unleſs you practiſe Holineſs?

As late ſhe did, while yet alive.

Sweet Ladies, I beſeech you ſtrive

To be like her, get her renown,

That you in Heaven may wear a Crown,

As ſhe now doth. Oh give ſweet reſt

To Jeſus Christ betwixt your breaſt.

Let him your boſom-jewel be,

He was to her; I fain would ſee

You all enflam'd with the ſame love,

That ſhe to this her Lord above

Had alwayes burning in her heart;

O labour here to act her part.

Her Legacy do not forget,

Which ſhe among thoſe jewels ſet

p. 94She valued moſt, and left to you,

Her memory ſometimes to renew.

Pray'd ſhe in ſecret? do you go

In ſecret too, and pray you ſo.

Did ſhe much love to read and hear

Gods holy Word? and many a tear

Shed from a broken heart? did ſhe

Alwayes with God delight to be?

In holy thoughts; in ſweet Communion,

In neer acquaintance, ſtricteſt union?

Oh that I could perſwade you all

Unto the ſame! oh that the call

Which her example gives you, might

So work upon you in the ſight,

Of all that know you, that it may

Occaſion all your friends to ſay,

Though her removal be your croſs,

Yet 'tis your gain, and not your loſs.

LXV. A particular advice to all neer Relations.

Where deareſt love, moſt ſweet content

Have loſt their object, where the bent

Of ſtrong affections want the ſcope

They us'd to aim at, where the hope

Of ſome rare, choice delight doth fail,

And where no comforts can prevail,

To quiet and compoſe the mind,

The only remedy I find,

Is preſently to haſten from

The mud-dry'd ſtream; and haſte to come

p. 95To the ſweet fountain of all good,

Where it will beſt be underſtood,

How deep our ſorrows are, how great

Our unknown troubles; what's the heat

Of our inordinate deſires,

And thoſe hot ſcorching burning fires

That flame within us? Oh let's there

Drench deep, refreſh our ſouls, take care

To quench our droughts, thence take reliefs

That may give eaſe to all our griefs.

A fountain 'tis ſo calm, ſo cool,

So healing too, a ſilver pool

So clear, ſo freſh, ſo pleaſant taſte

It gives to all, that we but waſte

Our precious time while we refuſe

Its dainty ſtreams; oh let us chuſe

This ſafe, ſure help, above all others

That Brethren, Siſters, Fathers, Mothers,

Can us afford, in our diſtreſs.

All put together give much leſs

Support or comfort, one ſmall drop

From this high ſpring, down from the top

Of that gold Mountain where it runs,

Gives more refreſhments than whole tuns

Of theſe low muddy waters here,

Even when they ſeem to run moſt clear.

If we then haſte to waſh, bath, drink

Of this ſweet font, we ne're ſhall ſink

I'th' Sea of our own paſſions wide,

But bear up 'gainſt the ſtrongeſt tyde

p. 96Of ſorrows, while this is the helm

Of our hopes, what can overwhelm

Or drown us? we ſhall never ſplit

Our Ship with ſhelves, or ſands, or hit

Againſt hard rocks, no boiſtrous blaſts,

Or ſurging ſtorms ſhall hurt our maſts.

Where doleful plaints immoderate are,

And endleſs, theſe aloud declare

We lov'd too much what we lament

In ſuch exceſs, and muſt repent

Of this great ſin, ſhall we not reſt

In what God doth, as ever beſt?

Shall we not ſuffer him fulfill

His own all-wiſe and ſoveraign will?

Are we ſo angry 'cauſe the flower

Is cropt by him, who hath the power

To take his own when e're he pleaſe?

What though we plead ſuch things as theſe?

Ah! 'twas a flower, ſo ſweet, ſo fair,

So beautiful, ſo choice, ſo rare,

A flower we lov'd to look upon

With great delight, that flower alone,

Which we rejoyc'd in moſt of all,

Above the reſt on the round ball.

Well't may be ſo; perhaps we ſmelt

Too much unto't, perhaps we felt

Our hearts too much engag'd, our hand

Too much upon't, our eye to ſtand

Upon this flower, and there to pore

On the fine ſtreaked colours more,

p. 97Then we ſhould do; how many a flower

Have we oft ſpoyl'd in one ſhort hour,

With our warm hand, and our hot breath,

Have we not wither'd it to death?

Apes hug their young and loſe them ſo,

When we in our great folly go

The ſame way too, is't any wonder,

If the wiſe God doth put aſunder

Us and our comforts? let's be wiſe

At laſt, oh let us now adviſe

What our great duty is, ſurely

'Tis to be ſilent, not ask why

God hath done this? when he conſumes

Man for his ſin, can all his fumes

Or frets within give any eaſe?

Or cauſe the hand of God to ceaſe

From the leaſt ſtroke? ah no! how vain

Is't? and how ſinful to complain?

Shall ſorry man thus with his Maker

Contend ſo fiercely? be partaker

Of ſo great guilt, and not ſubmit?

But ſtill remain in's ſullen fit,

If we continue to do ſo,

May it not bring ſome greater blow

Down quick upon us? let's Take heed

Leſt God in his great wrath proceed

Us more to puniſh; we ſhould rather

Seek to find him our tender Father,

By humble, patient, child-like fear,

Let us adore him and revere

p. 98His holy Name. He's a good God

If we pleaſe him, his very rod

All dipt in honey ſhall relieve

And comfort give, when we most grieve.

As for our friend that now is gone,

Our dear Relation we bemoan,

So much, ſo long, let us rejoyce,

That though no more we hear her voice

'Mongſt us poor mortals, yet ſhe's where

Much better friends, Relations are.

She ſings much ſweeter tunes than ever,

She playes unwearied ſtrains that never

Shall have an end, her aking head

Now akes no more, her reſtleſs bed

Pains her no more, her cryes and groans

Are all turn'd to melodious tones;

Her cares, her griefs, her briniſh teare

Are now all lost, and all her fears

Are vaniſh'd quite, ſhe's laid to rest

In her Lords boſom, there's a neſt

Of ſuch ſtrong comforts ſhe ne're knew.

So freſh, ſo ſpringing up a new,

That if we lov'd her, we muſt needs

Rejoyce to think what ſhe there feeds

Upon for ever, what ſweet ſmiles

She lives among? and what high piles

Of wealth and store ſhe there enjoyes?

While we remain ſtill in the noiſe

Of a loud, clamerous, roaring world,

Where we from toyl to toyl are hurl'd

p. 99Toſs'd, vex'd, tormented more and more

With turmoils, croſſes, troubles ſore,

All ſorts of ſins, temptations, crimes

Still us annoy i'th' beſt of times,

We e're yet met with: every kind

Of wants, diſeaſes, griefs of mind,

Sollicite us, we ne're are quiet,

Nor ne're ſhall be, till the ſame diet

She now feeds on, be ours alſo.

Oh! thither let's make haſte to go

In our affections firſt, and then

At our laſt diſſolution, when

God ſhall appoint, mean while let us

Be in deaths oft, for we beſt thus

Befriend our ſelves, by frequent ſights

Of Death's black face, do cauſe the frights

Thereof to ceaſe; familiar talk

With a Death's head in every walk,

'Midſt all our mirths and banquettings,

If we diſcern deaths glimmerings,

If in our gardens and our bowers,

And our converſe among ſweet flowers,

Still we with death acquainted are,

And for his darts alwayes prepare,

It ne're ſhall take us ſuddenly,

Nor yet find us unfit to dye.

LXVI. Upon the words of the …xt, 1 Cor. 22. Death … yours.

Now in the cloſe of all I'le next,

Tell you the ſeaſonable Text,

p. 100The Reverend Doctor pleas'd to take,

And did a uſeful Sermon make

At her Interments. Words were theſe,

Sweet Death is yours. Death gives you eaſe,

That Death which all Believers dye,

And by which though their Bodies lye

In ſlimy Valleys of the grave,

Yet thoſe ſame filthy ſlimes they have

So ſweeten'd by Chriſt's rich perfume,

(His odours ſure will ne're conſume)

That there they lye as if in beds

Of fragrant Roſes, he that ſheds

Salt tears upon them doth but mingle

Bitter with ſweet; there's no one ſingle,

No, nor yet compound ſmell that can

Match th' Aromaticks of that man,

In's very grave, that dyes a Saint,

His Sepulcher needs no rich paint.

Though what lyes there all putrid be,

Though ſpoyl'd in the fine ſymmetry

Of every part, yet I dare ſay

That at the Reſurrection day

That duſt ſhall bloſſom; a new flower

Shall bud and blow from thence; that power

That urn'd it there, with better ſcent

Shall ſweeten't, and make redolent.

Moſt coſtly odours never gave

So rich a ſcent as that ſhall have.

This very duſt, is duſt of Gold,

Bought with vaſt ſums, can ne're be told.

p. 101Chriſt's own heart blood, that pretious thing

Was all paid for the purchaſing

This very duſt; this rotten mould

Bleſt Angels one day ſhall behold

Quicken'd again, immortaliz'd,

With Chriſt's own body ſimiliz'd

As vile as 'tis, ſplendors of Glory

Shall brighten it, the higheſt ſtory

Of bliſs it ſhall be mounted to,

So high, ſo very high, that you

Shall ſee the twinckling ſtarry globes

Beneath this duſt, the coſtly robes

It ſhall be veſted with out-ſhine

The Sun at Noon, all beams combine,

When this dry duſt unites again,

To fix upon it, and remain

In their full luſters. Purity

Moſt incorrupt, agility

Moſt quick and active, then ſhall be

The new rais'd bodies property.

If thus this casket as before,

Shall be embroidered all o're

With richer things then Gems or Gold,

More then empearl'd. We may be bold

To think the jewel lately pent

Within it much more Orient.

That Diamonds all glittering Angles

More ſparkling are than all the ſpangles

We elſewhere ſ…. The difference muſt

Be vaſtly great betwixt this duſt

p. 102And that which quicken'd it: the glory

As we do find by ſacred ſtory,

Which hath a reference to the tomb

And fleſhly part, is yet to come.

But now the Nobler part, the mind,

If we conſider well, we find,

Is in poſſeſſion preſently,

When it doth from its body flie.

Next moment is it not tranſpos'd

From Earth to Heaven? and repos'd

I'th' boſom of ſweet reſt and peace?

Hath it not gain'd a full releaſe?

From ſins? temptations? miſeries?

From all ſorts of calamities?

Hath it not left a world behind,

In which we nothing elſe can find,

But vanities and ſore vexations,

With thouſand thouſand moleſtations?

Hath it not bliſſes now, and ſtore

Of ſuch high joyes 't ne're knew before?

Is't not enrob'd, enthron'd, encrown'd?

With brighter glories, circled round

With luſters more intenſe by far

Than any in thoſe orbes that are

Now viſible to humane eyes?

Doth not Chriſts own ſweet Viſion riſe

Into emperial culminations,

Of unapproached coruſcations?

What is the ſpangled Canopy

Compar'd with this bright fulgency?

p. 103Seated in this high chair of State

Doth not the glorious ſoul now hate

Sins ſnares below? this m…re and clay

Which here 'twas clog'd with th'other day?

Doth it not now with ſcorn behold

This our contemptuous dirty mould?

Is not the very duſt it treads

Now made of Stars? are not the beds

Where now it takes repoſe the ſame,

Which Chriſt himſelf long'd till he came

Unto, when he his life had ſhed

And for poor ſinners to death bled?

While thus in goodly dignity

It ſits aloft, ſublime, and high,

While Angel-like it is array'd,

And all its golden beams diſplay'd

Before its Soveraigns beauteous face,

Spouſe of his heart, and of his Grace

The large repleniſh'd ſubject is,

And reigns thus in eternal bliſs:

While 'tis bedew'd, embalm'd, o're-run

With ſtreams from this ne're ſetting Sun,

While all ſweet influential Powers

And virtues down upon it ſhowers,

While Union, Viſion, Joy and Reſt,

Peace, Light, and Glory makes it bleſt,

While his love warms, melts, and inflames

The ſoul, while all the pregnant names

By which all future good is ſhown,

Unto this bleſſed ſoul are known,

p. 104While it partakes, ſucks, feeds upon

All this, as if it ſelf alone

Injoy'd it all, and this for ever,

Muſt keep it alwayes, loſe it never.

Tell me I pray what is thy thought

Of that ſweet death ſuch things hath wrought

For this rais'd ſoul? what Legacy

More rich could well be given by

Him, that by death gives ſuch a life,

So full of bliſs, ſo free from ſtrife?

LXVII. The character of a Believer's death.

Theſe things conſider'd, now I ſhall

Proceed with Truth ſweet death to call,

A ſilver bridge that paſſeth o're

All good ſouls to the other ſhore.

A golden key made to unlock

The gates of Glory to Chriſt's Flock,

To open Wardrobes, Treaſuries,

Where all rich ſtores and jewels lyes.

A ſweet ſleep in perfumed bed

Where juſt men reſt their wearied head.

An Officer that gives poſſeſſion

To him that makes ſincere profeſſion

Of all his hopes and expectations

With full compleat remunerations.

Accompliſher of his deſires,

And what by true Faith he requires.

Performer of ſweet Promiſes,

That eaſeth of all grievances.

p. 105Remover of his cares and fears,

Anſwers all pray'rs, wipes off all tears.

That turns the ſeed into its crop,

Rich grace into its gallant top

Of Glory; roots to full-blown flowers.

Griefs drops into the golden ſhowers

Of Joy; that crowns the Conquerour

Who fought for Chriſt, the laborour

In Wine-preſs of afflictions great,

Rewards his ſufferings, ſorrow, ſweat

Which he with patience underwent,

Self-abnegation, and content.

A tite Ship that through ſurging Sea

Bears a true Chriſtian quite away,

From Rocks and quick-ſands to his port,

Which he ſeeks after, that ſtrong fort

Which men and divels too cannot

Or hurt, or batter, with their ſhot.

The ladder by which up we climb

To th' place not meaſur'd out by time.

The Mid-wife of a purer birth;

An In-let to the ſweeteſt mirth;

That to the Bridegroom gives his Bride,

Knits knots no more to be unty'd

Betwixt them, puts the glittering Crown

Upon her, and the ſumptuous Gown

Of needle-work in Ophir Gold,

The garment which ne're waxeth old.

That with Auguſt inauguration,

Seats her in higheſt inſtallation

p. 106'Mong thoſe bright manſions which before

Prepared were, and evermore

Stand firmly fix'd. That dwelling place

'Mong beams which from a Saviour's face

Create whole myriads of bliſſes

Perpetually, and never miſſes.

If this be all the alteration

That death makes by a ſeparation

Of ſoul and body for a ſpace

Till both meet in ſo high a place,

Shall we not count it our beſt friend,

That brings us to ſo brave an end?

ACROSTIGKS.

I.

S orrows how great! How faſt they come

U pon our hearts! how burdenſom!

S ighs, ſobs, griefs, tears, moſt bitter moans

A re our food now! more deep fecht groans

N e're came from any; we are left

P aſt remedy; this ſudden theft

E ver ſurprizeth where he can

R ich, poor, ſmall, great, there is no man

W hate're he be muſt look to ſcape

I ts killing stroke; upon his nape

C ruel aſſaults will give their blow

H is life to end before they go.

II.

S ore griefs muſt needs afflict us when

U ntimely death the beſt of men

S natcheth away, when Virgins young

A re cropt i'th' bud, and plac'd among

N ight-ſepulchers; when we do ſee

N ew bloſſom'd Roſes ſcatter'd be

A t deaths black foot: may not we ſay?

P itty, oh pitty us! we pray

p. 108E ſpecially ſince our ſad griefs

R eturn ſo faſt, and no reliefs

W ill eaſe our heavy ſinking hearts,

I n midſt of our moſt doleful ſmarts.

C ome Lord, true grace, peace, comfort give

H ear us, give anſwer, while we live.

III.

S he's bleſt no doubt, now ſhe is gone

U nto her Lord; Him, him alone

S he moſt deſir'd, and lov'd to meet

A s Mary did, where his bleſt feet

N ew tydings brought, of ſuch ſweet peace

N one knew before; ſhe'd never ceaſe

A t any time to labour after

P art of thoſe toyes, that fill with laughter

E ternally; where ſhe might find

R eſt, Pleaſures, Bliſſes for her mind:

W here ſhe might ſing above the skies

I n ſweeter notes new melodies.

C hriſt had her heart, his boſom ſhe

H ath now got her repoſe to be.

p. 109SUSANNA PERWICH. Anagram I. SIN'S WAN CAEAR UP.

IS SIN WAN? let's CHAR UP our hearts

'Tis ſtruck dead by Chriſts own keen darts.

Though it leave mortals, pale, WAN, dead,

Yet 'twas it ſelf firſt conquered.

Our WAN looks ſhall revive again,

Let's CHEAR UP; when Chriſt 'gins to reign

Sin lives no more: well't may look WAN

When it lyes ſprawling, and ne're can

Get up again: its deadly wound

Admits no cure. How ſweet's the ſound

Of this good news unto our ears!

With how great joy our hearts it CHEARS!

Doth ſhe CHEAR UP? is her baſe ſin

Turn'd to rich Grace? her droſſy tin

Into pure gold? Any do… WAN looks

To beauties? do joye… p…ea… brooks

Fill her with a Fel…ity

Ineffable, Eternally▪

Let us CAEAR UP too, may not we

Hope for the ſame as well as ſhe?

No doubt we may, if we but live,

As ſhe did us example give.

Then we (as ſhe) may hope no more

To SIN or look WAN as before.

p. 110SUSANNA PERWICH. Anagram II. PURCHASE SWAN-IN.

SWANS ſing moſt ſweetly when they dye,

Saints do the like moſt uſually.

But what's the IN ſuch SWANS as theſe

Take harbour in with well turn'd layes?

Is't not bright Heav'n, that bliſsful port,

The chiefeſt of all Inns of Court?

Fair lodgings there were furniſhed

For our ſweet Songſter that is dead.

Dove-like ſhe liv'd, Swan-like ſhe dy'd,

And Phenix-like to Heav'n fly'd,

From that low mooriſh River here

She rais'd with many a briniſh tear.

This Heavens SVVAN-IN ſhe therefore ſought

Of whom, and for what 't might be bought.

And when at laſt ſt… …d …derſtood

No other price … Chriſt's heart blood

Could PURCHASE it, …he then made bold

From thence to fetch huge heaps of gold

And paid down for't, whereby ſhe made

A gainful PURCHASE: there's no trade

Like this with Chriſt to buy and ſell

This her experience knew full well.

So this brave PURCHASE heavens SWAN-IN

She makes, and now ſhe dwells therein.

p. 111SUSANNAH PERWICHE, Anagram III. AH! IC HEAV'NS PURE SUN.

AH! I C see now (late dim half-Moon)

Bright HEAV'NS PURE SUN in'ts glorious Noon.

MOon-like before my ſquallid motions

Swell'd all my banks with briniſh lotions.

Broad ſtreams, high tydes flow'd and reflow'd,

So that huge Veſſels might have row'd

I'th' loweſt waters, my griefs made

So deep no foot therein could wade.

But now methinks I look more blith

Now I'm got in conjunction with

My bliſsful SUN and ſource of light

My day's now come, my darksom night

Is gone and paſt; my cold moiſt drops

Are all dry'd up: I'm on the tops

Of ſpicy Hills: Olympian beams

Send rowling out ſuch flaming ſtreams

As me ingulf; I'm circled round

With glomerations which abound

Where ſhades were wont: black miry earth

I've changed for HEAV'N by a new birth.

Death kill'd me not, but gave a life

Above all ſorrow, ſin, and ſtrife.

What wiſdom is't on earth to ſtay,

For any that get HEAV'N may?

Who would not turn his droſs to Gold?

Pebbles to pearls? his dirty mould

To all-tralucent glittering beams?

Foul muds into PURE Chriſtal ſtreams?

His pricking thornes to ſofteſt downes?

His clods to ſtars? croſſes to Crowns?

Who would not change bitter for ſweet?

Vile gall for hony? with running feet

Haſte quick away to that brave place,

Where he may ſee in's Saviour's face

Ten thouſand ſmiles, joyes, beauties, bliſſes,

And thence receive millions of kiſſes

Sweeter by far, than any Nectar;

Which for our tears is an Elixar

That turning them to ſilver balls,

Stills all our groanings, cryes and brawles?

I'm blind to earth now I Csee HEAV'N

I'le feed no more on ſins ſowre leav'n.

In ſtead of rags, I here wear Robes,

And under feet tread ſpangling Globes.

Here I walk round from Tower to Tower,

And paſs along from Bower to Bower.

Here Angels ſing, there Cherubins,

Arch-Angels here, there Seraphins.

I ſtand and liſten in a gaze,

I hear and ſee what doth amaze

My raviſh'd ſoul. Dominions high

Here ſit enthron'd, and there doth flie

A winged Chorus. Melodies

To what ſhril mounted ſtrains they riſe!

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,

How they chant to great Jehovah!

Lutes, Viols, Harps, Cytherns, Gettars

Compar'd with theſe, oh what harſh jars

Do they ſend forth! and what ſad lowers

Sit on the looks of faireſt flowers,

Colours, or beauteous faces here

Compar'd with the bright objects there!

Viſions I ſee incomparable,

Rare tunes I hear unutterable.

Faſt am I held by ears and eyes,

Yet mine imagination flies

Farther and farther; therefore I

Away with ſpeedieſt motions hye

To view where th' mighty Potentates

And all the reſt o'th' glorious ſtates

Do reign and rule; where all the Powers

And Principalities down ſhowers

Their more than golden luſters; where

The ſeveral Heav'nly places are

I read of in that holy Word,

Firſt did the knowledge me afford

Of theſe rare things: but moſt of all

I view the Seat Imperial,

Where HEAV'NS PURE SUN with glittering rayes

Sits, and his Majeſty diſplayes

With moſt corruſcant emanations,

Commanding lowlieſt adorations

p. 114From higheſt Powers. Oh what pure lights

Doth he transfund! what dazling ſights

Gives he! 'tis true all Heaven o're

I ſee high Thrones, myriads, and more:

Yet all theſe are but th'glimmerings, he

Sheds from his own dread effulgency.

All Crowns Vibrat from his great Crown;

Whole Thrones from his great Throne drop down;

Not ſingle beams, but Suns, whole Suns

From this PURE SUN ſtill ſtreaming runs.

As ſparks from huge great Di'monds fall

While cut in numerous Angles all:

Or as Gold Oar from mighty Mountains,

Rowl in ſmall ſands through ſilver fountains.

The Heav'n of Heav'ns ſhines in his face,

He brightens Glory 't ſelf: the place

Where he's enthron'd all flaming is,

So ever radiantizing 'tis,

That were it not refracted to

Created eyes, it would undo

The boldeſt Angels to behold

In glimpſe not a minute old

The ſplendors of't, in one ſtraight line

So unapproach'd is't in its ſhine.

Oh glorious object! what intenſe

And condens'd pleaſures fetch I thence!

Would't not me prove a very ſot,

If I all raviſhed ſhould not

Break out in wonders? therefore now

Without all blame you'l me allow

To joy that my half-Moon's thus drown'd

I'th' Ocean luſters me ſurround;

And as one wrapt up in a Trance,

Wondering my wonders ſtill t'advance,

And ſay, Ah! I Csee with m'own eye,

Bright HEAV'NS PURE SUN eternally.

EPITAPH.

HEre Beauties, Odors, Muſicks lye,

To ſhew that ſuch rare things can dye.

Weep Paſſenger, weep, ſigh, and groan,

When was e're ſuch another known?

From Heav'n ſhe came with Melodies,

And back again to Heav'n ſhe flies.

p. 116Here follow certain Copies of Verſes, compoſed by ſome of the friends of the Deceaſed. In memory of that eminently Vertuous, his much honoured Cozen, Mrs. Suſanna Perwich.

ANd what! is death of late ſo meal'd mouth'd grown

As to ſleight courſer, and to feed on none

But natures choiceſt diſhes? muſt her heart

Needs feel the point of his all-conquering dart?

Could neither Beauty, Vertue, him provoke

To hold his hand from this ſad fatal ſtroke?

Could they have don't, then certainly we may

Conclude that ſhe had liv'd ſtill to this day.

'Tis no Hyperbole to ſay her mind

Others in rareſt ex'lencies out-ſhin'd.

The Vertues which elſewhere lay ſcattered,

Within her breaſt were all concentered.

But why do I thus ſtammer out her worth?

There needs an Angels tongue to ſet it forth.

Y…t now ſhe's gone; let not her dear friends weep,

… ſhe's not dead, but only fall'n aſleep;

… her rejoyce, that God them honour'd ſo,

…h a rich gift upon them to beſtow.

p. 117With whom we leave her, and ſhall add but this,

In heavenly joyes her ſoul now ſollac'd is;

Warbling out ſweeteſt Anthems 'bove the skies,

Not ſuch as are found in the Lythurgies.

Well! what remains, but this one wiſh, that we

Who ſtay behind, may be as good as ſhe?

S. R.

Some ſerious thoughts let forth for my deceaſed Friend, Mrs. Suſanna Perwich.

OH help me Muſes, you that ſoftly ſing

In ſolitaries, bring me on your wing,

Where grief may melt me, and my tears extend,

To touch, each loyal heart that means to ſpend

Some ſelect mournings, that our lives may be

The perfect Emblems of true Piety.

We know our frailties, and we can't expreſs

It more to purpoſe (mortals) ſee this Herſe

Whereon doth lye, the body of our Friend,

A ſoul too good, too great, too ſoon to end;

And yet her ſtar is not extinct, for ſhe

Triumphs in glory over miſery.

p. 118What mean then thus our thoughts to mourn, o… why

Do they complain? will ſtill my watery eye

Diſſolved be in tears? ſtop, ſtop, no more

Of thy diſtilling; peace, 'tis time, give o're.

Lift up thy down-caſt ſenſes, ſee her ſet

In beams of brightneſs, labour thou to get

To her preferment, and thou maiſt be ſure

Thou wilt exchange thy droſs for what is pure▪

Call home thy dunghil cogitations, be

An imitator of her charity.

Abound in goodneſs, and let love invite

Thee to her pattern, for her ſole delight

Was to be pious, courteous, ſweet to all;

Not vainly proud, nor ſubject to have gall.

Free to forgive the greateſt wrongs, and ſhe

Never took pleaſure in much jolity;

But wiſely ponder'd in her ſerious cell

'Twas beſt becoming wiſdom for to dwell

Within its proper walls, and there to be

Protected from injurious falſity.

In ſum, her life was ſuch as might have been

A Nautick-card, to guide the beſt of men.

I. H.

p. 119Upon that incomparable Lady, Mrs. Suſanna Perwich, the miracle of her Age, for all Excellencies, both Spiritual and Temporal.

WAat ails my thoughts? I'm haunted ſo with grief,

That to my mind nothing can yeeld relief.

…hat do I ask the reaſon? it is plain,

…a'n't every face an Elegiack ſtrain?

…reat ſorrow can't be ſmother'd, in each eye

…ppear the ſad complaints of miſery.

What are we mortals now at laſt bereft

…ven of that little which the Fall had left?

What is that Lady ſtruck by death's keen darts,

…n whom concentred all the heavenly Arts?

…hus ſad were mortals, when Aſtrea flew

…o Heaven, and bid the curſed earth adieu.

…'m nought but ſtormes within, they'l not be pent,

My heart muſt break, or I muſt give them vent.

Come then my Muſe, try if rais'd by her fall,

Thou canſt her image to my mind recall:

Her beauty and rare features I'le forbear,

Leſt thinking on them, I ſhould ſurfeet there.

p. 120I'le boaſt not of her blood, though in her face,

Both Lancaſter and York had equal place:

But ſhe was Muſicks Maſter-piece, a wonder,

Oh that I could but run diviſion on her.

What means this ſudden ſtroke? did Pallas fe…

(Muſicks great Goddeſs) to be challeng'd here

In her own Art, and loſe that glorious name,

Which hath ſo ſounded in the trump of fame?

Or wa'n't the heavenly Lyra ſweet alone,

To make a Conſort? is ſhe thither gone?

When hoſpitality out of England went,

She's ſaid to ave yeelded up her breath in Kent;

So Muſick in her, whom we now bemoan,

I fear will prove to'ave given its laſt groan.

If ſhe unſeen did ſing, I wiſh'd to be

All ear; if after that I her did ſee,

My wiſh was chang'd, I fain would be all eye,

That ſo I might her glorious gifts eſpie.

Sure nature framed her for this intent,

That of their wiſhes men might ſtill repent.

Orpheus his well tun'd ſoul in her did live,

If to Pythagoras we may credit give;

He made the eared Oaks dance to his layes,

And duller ſtones the walls of Thebes to raiſe.

But what is more, ſhe ſtony Rocks could move,

p. 121Rough tempers mild after her play would prove.

But if you look on skill in Muſicks Art,

What is moſt rare, ſhe had a well-tun'd heart:

For although others the ſphears harmony

Could never hear, becauſe o'th' noiſe and cry

Of worldly things, yet ſure ſhe this had heard,

Her ſoul to Heaven was ſo often rear'd:

She ne're was ſo well pleas'd with Muſicks airs,

As when ſhe roſe to Ela in her prayers:

'Twas far more pleaſure to her, and content,

To tune her heart, than tune her Inſtrument.

Thoſe rarities that in her breaſt did lye,

She cloathed all with rich Divinity.

When the three Goddeſſes did each contend

For th' golden Ball, Parts did recommend

It unto Venus; but ſhe unto Grace,

On th' contrary did give the chiefeſt place;

For though thoſe earthly Syrens did their part;

That each might gain that golden Ball, her heart;

Yet ſhe did ſtop her ears to all their ſtrife,

And gave it unto Chriſt, the Lord of Life.

She was our Phenix, but this breaks my heart,

Her aſhes can't another Life impart:

But is ſhe dead? and did not every thing,

Ruſh into its firſt Chaos once again?

p. 122For ſince the harmony o'th' world is gone,

I expect nothing but confuſion.

Philoſophy now fails, that argument

It us'd to prove the Heavens are permanent,

In her's confuted, for her perfect form,

Could not diſcharge her body from the worm.

E. B.

UPON

Miſtris

Sure there are myſteries hid in this Name,

Under it's comprehended ſo great fame.

Search well the Holy Language, Rabbins all,

And ſee what mean the lerters radical.

Ne're were a Females parts improv'd ſo high,

Nature in her did meet with induſtry:

And every letter in this Name ſure will

Prove Hieroglyphicks of her various skill.

Equal to her were none, for parts, or worth,

Religion yet did chiefly ſet her forth.

Weep Reader, weep, this fair one's ſnatcht away,

In her beſt years ſhe felt her ſtrength decay.

Can any read this without ſighs, and ſay,

Here lyes a mirror wrapped up in clay?

Idem.

An eLegIe on that peerLeſs VIrgIn, SVſan… PerWICh, Paragon of aLL VertVe, the fLoVrIſhIng gLory of her ſeXe, Who LateLy DeCeaſeD, DDCCLLLLLLLLXVVVVVVVVVIIIIII.

VVOuld tears permit, would ſighs an… ſobs give way

My honeſt Muſe her mournful deb… would pa…

Unto thy Herſe, dear Saint. Can grief give time

Or knows it meaſure, can't compoſe a Rhime?

Strong duty bids it try, though't be confus'd,

Grief to trim Dreſs, or Order is diſus'd.

Now from the Fortreſs of my love-ſtor'd heart

Officious words would ſally, to bear part

I'th' rites, but by an ambuſhment of tears

Surpriz'd: I'le try again devoid of fears.

Now try we if 't be true, or meer ſurmiſes,

That from the Phenix urn another riſes:

If this prove true, 'twil give our grief a lank,

Whoſe prouder ſwelling laughs at bound or bank

Were I in Sect a Petrolitan

Holding that mannerly devotion ran

Through th' Conduits of the Saints: her Name alone

I would adore, at her ſhrine make my moan.

If not by Precept, but by Precedent

(A breathing Precept) Vertue beſt is ſent

Into the ſoul, behold a perfect Guide,

In whom all Vertues are exemplifi'd:

Courted by ſtrong Temptations to be proud,

Yet in Fames ſilver Trumpet ſounds aloud

Her great Humility; which was the ground

Whereon her other Vertues flower'd were found,

This vertue is the ground on which the reſt

Run ſweet diviſion in a fair conteſt.

On this firm Baſis that bright Fabrick ſtands,

Which kiſſes Heaven and the Clouds commands,

So many excellencies were her lot,

One in anothers beauty is forgot.

As calm ſhe was in words as in deſires,

Knew not her Sexes tempeſts nor their fires.

Some are but fairer Aeolus his Dens,

In which the winds and bluſtring ſtorms he pens.

Beauty, Proportion, Colour do define,

To which ſome graceful motion well adjoyn;

Whereto may voice be added, all theſe here

Conſpir'd to place her fame above a Peer.

Though chaſte and comely ſeldom we do ſee

In high degrees (at leaſt) conjoyn'd, yet ſhe

Was Beauties darling, Modeſties delight,

Giving as rare as raviſhing a ſight.

Hackney, the Ladies Univerſity

Of Female Arts the famous Nurſery;

Which in their kind at leaſt, may well compare

With thoſe of th'other Sex; what Arts ſo rare

Which are not liberally furniſh'd here?

Mathematicks they count within their Sphear;

Arithmatick in muſick couch'd you'l find;

Geometry hath in their dancing ſhin'd.

Aſtronomy's beſt read i'th' Ladies eyes;

Rhetorick firſt from women did ariſe;

Their Logick, Will, our Reaſon doth defie;

There are Grammarians for Orthography.

Tongues there abound. Blame not in improper Muſe

In Elegies ſtill Elogies we uſe.

This Univerſity ſhe grac'd, wherein

To the chief Colledge Students ſhe did win.

She there proceeded higheſt Graduate,

Miſtris of Arts that are profeſt thereat.

How great a loſs th…t Univerſity

O… her bereft ſuſtain'd! how great's the cry

p. 126Of that fam'd Colledge, which ſhe did adorn

Which knows but one long night without a morn?

How dumb's their Muſick and their dancing lame!

Or if both's good, yet neither is the ſame.

Thoſe pretty Doves eyes with griefs needle ſeil'd,

They prick their fingers till their works blood yeeld

In all the needles Curioſities

Exactly ſhe was read, view, wipe your eyes.

In dancing reach'd perfection of the foot,

Yet not with labour much gave her mind to't.

Her Musick jars Diviſion in this ſtrife,

Whether ſhe ſang or plaid more to the life,

That ſubdivided, whether on the Lute

Or Viol beſt her fingers ſweet did ſute.

Her Hand and Ear fell out which ſhould be beſt

The Hands none ſuch by all ſhe is confeſt.

In all her Exerciſes ſhown ſuch Art

Neglectedly concerned in each part,

As if to her they all were natural,

Or ſhe to them were ſupernatural;

And ſo in truth ſhe was, her nobler Fire

Unto a higher Region did aſpire.

This by her bearing is well figur'd out,

Which rightly doth her repreſent devout.

The Field is Argent; charge, a Chevron fable

Betwixt three Eaglets, which to view are able

Her Creſt, a Southern Sun, in Noon-tide glory,

Thus Eagles prove their young, in Natures ſtory

Not ſilken Arts, nor graceful ſteps, nor dreſſes

Not modiſh ordering heart-enſnaring Treſſes,

Not Art with Nature, Inſtrument with Voice

Can make a Female Glory to rejoyce;

Nor Natures paint, but much leſs that of Art,

By which your Dames of pleaſure make their mart

But a bright burniſh'd mind, whoſe luſtre vies

With the Celeſtial Lamps, dazling all eyes.

I'th' Heavenly Academy ſhe was verſt,

Knowledge there's taſting, things are not rehearſ…

But done, not only for a blaze profeſt,

But Action there with conſtant heat is bleſt;

In the Celeſtial Univerſity

She now degrees of Glory takes more high.

She once bleſt Earth, while acting on this ſtag…

Now gives Heavens Book of Bliſs another Page,

Which gives me greater Amours, and much more

I long to read it now, than e're before.

You'l ſay, my Muſe ſoars not ſo high a flight

As juſtly rates her worth; confeſt, 'tis right

One cauſe is this, her wings with grief are wet,

Or elſe her Lute had ſtrain'd a nobler ſet.

S. B.

p. 128To the READER.

Courteous Reader.

SOme pages of this ſheet being left void for want of matter, rather than they ſhould ſtand empty, I have filled them up with ſhort practical Quaeries, grounded (for the moſt part) upon ſuch pregnant Scriptures as have the anſwer ſtill perſpicuous in them, the reſt may be ſupplied with anſwers from the mind of the Reader, either negatively or affirmatively, according to the nature of the Quaeries. And becauſe my aim is to ſpeak ſomething that hath a particular reference to all ſorts of ſins and duties, I have therefore put my Quaeries accordingly; and for the more delight and variety, diſpoſed them into a miſcelaneous order. At firſt indeed, I thought to have filled up this ſheet only, and no more, but my hand being in, I proceeded to a double century and ſomewhat more, and have divided them into Decads, for the better help of memory, and to prevent wearineſs; ſo remaining an hearty well-wiſher to thy ſouls beſt good, I ſubſcribe,

John Bachiler.