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.
IX.
[ ] Mean time her Warlike Brother on the Seas His waving Streamers to the Winds displays, And vows for his Return, with vain Devotion, pays. Ah, Generous Youth, that Wish forbear, The Winds too soon will waft thee here! Slack all thy Sailes, and fear to come, Alas, thou know'st not, Thou art wreck'd at home! No more shalt thou behold thy Sisters Face, Thou hast already had her last Embrace. But look aloft, and if thou ken'st from far, Among the Pleiad's a New-kindl'd Star, If any sparkles, than the rest, more bright, 'Tis she that shines in that propitious Light.
X.
When in mid-Aire, the Golden Trump shall sound, To raise the Nations under ground; When in the Valley of Jehosaphat, The Judging God shall close the Book of Fate; And there the last Assizes keep, For those who Wake, and those who sleep; When ratling Bones together fly From the four Corners of the Skie, When Sinews o're the Skeletons are spread, Those cloath'd with Flesh, and Life inspires the Dead; } The Sacred Poets first shall hear the Sound, } And formost from the Tomb shall bound: } For they are cover'd with the lightest Ground And streight, with in-born Vigour, on the Wing, Like mounting Larkes, to the New Morning sing. There Thou, Sweet Saint, before the Quire shalt go, As Harbinger of Heav'n, the Way to show, The Way which thou so well hast learn'd below. J. Dryden.