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Show tp TO EMS. Could I by miracle fuch praife indite, W h o with more eafe and juftice weep than write, H e was all that which Hiftory can boaft, Or bolder Poetry had e'er engroft'd. So pious, juft, noble, difcreet, and kind, Their beft Ideas know not how to find: His ftrong Religion not on trifles fpent, , Wasufeful, firm, early, and eminent, Never betray'd to indigefted heat, Nor yet entic'd from what was fafely great. And this fo foon, as if he had forefight, H e muft begin betimes whofe noon is night. His virtue was his choice, and not his chance, Not mov'd by Age, nor born of Ignorance. H e well knew whom, and what he did believe, And for his Faith did not difpute, but live, And liv'd juft like his infant Innocence, But that was crown'd with free obedience*. H o w did he fcorn defign, and equally H o w much abhorr'd this Ages vanity ! He neither lik d its tumults, nor its Joys, Slighted alike Earths^leafures, and her noife. But unconcernd in both, in his o w n mind Alone could power and fatisfaction find. A treafury of merit there lay hid, Which though he ne'er confefs'd, his actioiis did. His Modefty unto his virtue lent At once a fhadow and an ornament. But what could hide thofe filial rites he paid > H o w much he lov'd, how prudently obey'd ? H o w as a brother did he juftly fhare His kind concern betwixt refpect and care ? And to a wife h o w fully did he prove H o w wifely he could judge, how fondly Jove \ As Husbands ferious, but as Lovers kind, He valu'd all of her, but lov'd her mind \ And with a pafiion made this Riddle true, 'Twas ever perfect, and yet ftill it grew. T 0 E M S. I39 Such handfome thoughts his Breaft did ever fill, He durft do any thing, but what was ill; Unlike thofe Gallants w h o fo ufe their time, As opportunity to act their crime, And loft in W i n e or Vanity when young, They die too foon, becaufe they liv'd too'long : But he has hallowed fo his early death, 'Tis almoft fhame to draw a longer breath. I can no more, they that can muft have learn'd, To be more eloquent, rand left concern'd. But all that Noble Juftice to his Name, His o w n good Angel will commit to Fame. Could grief recall this happinefs again, Of thy dear forrpw I would ne'er complain, But fuch an opportunity would take To grieve an ufeleft life out for thy fake. But fince it cannot, I muft pray thee live, Thaj fo much of Chariflm m a y furvive, > And that thou do not "act fo harfh to Love As that his glory fhould thy forrow move : Endure thy loft till Heav'n fhall it repay^ Upon thy laft and glorious Wedding-day, W h e n thou fhalt know him more, and quickly find The love increas'd by being fo refin'd, And there pofleft him without partinfe gars, As I m y friendfhip free from future tears. Orinda to Lucafia parting October 1661. at London. Dieu, dear Objeft of my Love's excefs, \xr . ^ " ? w k h thee a U my h o P e s o f happinefs, With the fame fervent and unchanged heart Which did its whole felf once to thee impart, (And which though fortune has fo foreJy bruis'd, Would fuffer more, ro be from this excus'd) 'to re/?gn thy dear C o n verfe fubmir, Smce I^an-r neither keep, nor merit it. k | ' T 2 Thou V \ |