VIII.
Now all those Charmes, that blooming Grace, The well-proportion'd Shape, and beauteous Face, Shall never more be seen by Mortal Eyes; In Earth the much lamented Virgin lies! Not Wit, nor Piety could Fate prevent; Nor was the cruel Destiny content To finish all the Murder at a Blow, To sweep at once her Life, and Beauty too; But, like a hardn'd Fellon, took a pride To work more Mischievously slow. And plunder'd first, and then destroy' O double Sacriledge on things Divine, To rob the Relique, and deface the Shrine! But thus Orinda dy'd: Heav'n, by the same Disease, did both translate, As equal were their Souls, so equal was their Fate.