And she doth know, out of the shade of death,

What 'tis to enjoy an everlasting breath! To have her captived spirit freed from flesh, And on her innocence, a garment fresh And white as that put on and in her hand With boughs of palm, a crowned victrice stand!

And will you, worthy son, sir, knowing this,

Put black and mourning on? and say you miss

A wife, a friend, a lady, or a love;
Whom her Redeemer honoured hath above1
Her fellows, with the oil of gladness,
bright

In heaven's empire, and with a robe of light?

Thither you hope to come; and there to find

That pure, that precious, and exalted mind
You once enjoyed: a short space severs ye,
Compared unto that long eternity,
That shall rejoin ye. Was she, then, so

dear

When she departed? you will meet her there,

Much more desired, and dearer than before, By all the wealth of blessings, and the store Accumulated on her, by the Lord

Of life and light, the Son of God, the Word!

There all the happy souls that ever were Shall meet with gladness in one theatre; And each shall know there one another's face,

By beatific virtue of the place.
There shall the brother with the sister walk,
And sons and daughters with their parents

talk; But all of God; they still shall have to say, But make him All in All, their Theme, that day;

That happy day that never shall see night!
Where he will be all beauty to the sight;
Wine or delicious fruits unto the taste;
A music in the ears will ever last;
Unto the scent, a spicery or balm;
And to the touch, a flower like soft as palm.
He will all glory, all perfection be,
God in the Union, and the Trinity!
That holy, great and glorious mystery,
Will there revealed be in majesty !
By light and comfort of spiritual grace;
The vision of our Saviour face to face

1 Whom her Redeemer, &c.] The Apotheosis abounds in scriptural allusions, which I have left to the reader; as well as the numerous pas

In his humanity! to hear him preach
The price of our redemption, and to teach
Through his inherent righteousness, in
death,

The safety of our souls and forfeit breath!
What fulness of beatitude is here?
What love with mercy mixed doth appear,
To style us friends, who were by nature
foes?

Adopt us heirs by grace, who were of those
Had lost ourselves, and prodigally spent
Our native portions and possessed rent?
Yet have all debts forgiven us, and advance
By imputed right to an inheritance
In his eternal kingdom, where we sit
Equal with angels, and co-heirs of it.
Nor dare we under blasphemy conceive
He that shall be our supreme judge, should
leave

Himself so un-informed of his elect,
Who knows the hearts of all, and can
dissect

The smallest fibre of our flesh; he can
Find all our atoms from a point t'a span:
Our closest creeks and corners, and can
trace

Each line, as it were graphic, in the face.
And best he knew her noble character,
For 'twas himself who formed and gave it
her.

And to that form lent two such veins of blood,

As nature could not more increase the flood

Of title in her! all nobility

But pride, that schism of incivility,
She had, and it became her! she was fit
'I" have known no envy but by suff'ring it!
She had a mind as calm as she was fair;
Not tost or troubled with light lady-air,
But kept an even gait, as some straight tree
Moved by the wind, so comely moved she.
And by the awful manage of her eye,
She swayed all bus'ness in the family.
To one she said, do this, he did it; so
To another, move, he went; to a third, go,
He ran; and all did strive with diligence
T' obey, and serve her sweet commande-
ments.

She was in one a many parts of life;
A tender mother, a discreeter wife,
A solemn mistress, and so good a friend,
So charitable to religious end
In all her petite actions, so devote,
As her whole life was now become one note

sages which Milton has adopted from it, and which his editors have as usual overlooked, while running after Dante and Thomas Aquinas.

Of piety and private holiness.
She spent more time in tears herself to
dress

For her devotions, and those sad essays
Of sorrow, than all pomp of gaudy days;
And came forth ever cheered with the rod
Of divine comfort, when she had talked
with God.

Her broken sighs did never miss whole

sense;

Nor can the bruised heart want eloquence:
For prayer is the incense most perfumes
The holy altars, when it least presumes.
And hers were all humility! they beat
The door of grace, and found the mercy-

seat.

She

In frequent speaking by the pious psalms
Her solemn hours she spent, or giving alms.
Or doing other deeds of charity,
To clothe the naked, feed the hungry.
Would sit in an infirmary whole days
Poring, as on a map, to find the
ways
To that eternal rest, where now she hath
place

By sure election and predestined grace!
She saw her Saviour, by an early light,
Incarnate in the manger, shining bright
On all the world! she saw him on the cross
Suffering and dying to redeem our loss:
She saw him rise triumphing over death,
To justify and quicken us in breath;
She saw him too in glory to ascend
For his designed work the perfect end
Of raising, judging and rewarding all
The kind of man, on whom his doom
should fall!

All this by faith she saw, and framed a plea,

In manner of a daily apostrophe,

To him should be her judge, true God, true Man,

Jesus, the only-gotten Christ! who can,
As being redeemer and repairer too
Of lapsed naturé, best know what to do,
In that great act of judgment, which the
Father

Hath given wholly to the Son (the rather As being the son of man) to shew his power,

His wisdom, and his justice, in that hour, The last of hours, and shutter up of all; Where first his power will appear, by call

Of all are dead to life; his wisdom show In the discerning of each conscience so; And most his justice, in the fitting parts, And giving dues to all mankind's deserts!

In this sweet extasy she was rapt hence. Who reads, will pardon my intelligence, That thus have ventured these true strains upon,

To publish her a saint. MY MUSE IS GONE!

In pietatis memoriam

quam præstas

Venetiæ tuæ illustrissim.
Marit. dign. Digbeie

Hanc 'АПо@QEIN, tibi, tuisque sacro.

THE TENTH,

BEING HER INSCRIPTION, OR CROWN, IS LOST.

17 Let raillery be without malice or heat. 18 Dull poems to read let none privilege take. 19 Let no poetaster command or intreat Another extempore verses to make.

IX.

20 Let argument bear no unmusical sound, Nor jars interpose, sacred friendship to grieve.

21 For generous lovers let a corner be found, Where they in soft sighs may their passions relieve.

X.

22 Like the old Lapithites, with the goblets to fight,

Our own 'mongst offences unpardoned will rank,

Or breaking of windows, or glasses, for spight,

And spoiling the goods for a rakehelly prank.

about the year 1796; the bar of this tavern being now part of their kitchen. The original sign (still in existence) of the banking-house, was the full blown marigold exposed to a meridian sun, with this motto round it, Ainsi mon Ame."-J. D. 1816.

1 AL CONVIVE NON MULTI.

music. It was frequently used for balls, &c., and here Dr. Kenrick gave, about 1775, his Lectures on Shakspeare.

XI.

23 Whoever shall publish what's said, or what's done,

Be he banished for ever our assembly divine.

24 Let the freedom we take be perverted by none,

To make any guilty by drinking good

wine.