Lucinda . What, my Marissa , has Lucinda done,
That thus her once lov'd Company you shun?
Why is't from her you thus unkindly fly,
From her, who for your Sake cou'd freely die?
Who knows no Joy but what your Sight does give,
And in your Heart alone desires to live?
I beg you by that Zeal I've shewn for you,
That Tenderness which is to Friendship due,
By those dear sacred Bonds our Souls have ty'd,
Those Bonds, which Death it self shall ne'er divide;
By what so e'er you love, or I can name,
To let me know from whence this wond'rous Strangeness came.
Remember by your Vows you're wholly mine,
And I to you did all my Thoughts resign:
My Joy was yours, and yours was all my Grief,
In your lov'd bosom still I sought Relief:
When you were chearful, I was truly blest,
And now your Sorrow deeply wounds my Breast:
I view it thro' the thin Disguise you wear,
And spite of all your Caution, all your Care,
Hear ev'ry rising Sigh, and view each falling Tear.

Marissa. Permit me, dear Lucinda , to complain,
That your Unkindness do's augment my Pain:
How could you think that one who lov'd like me
Would ever let you share her Misery?
To see you mourn would bring me no Relief,
No, that would rather double all my Grief:
For Love's a Passion of the noblest kind,
And when 'tis seated in a gen'rous Mind,
'Twill be from mean Designs and Interest free
Not interrupt a Friend's Felicity.
Had I been happy, with a smiling Face,
I long e'er now had run to your Embrace,
And in your Arms been eager to relate
The welcom Favours of propitious Fate:
But since ill Fortune do's me still pursue,
O let my Griefs remain unknown to you.
Free from sad Thoughts may you for ever live,
And all your Hours to Mirth and Pleasure give:
May no Concern for me your Peace molest;
O let me live a Stranger to your Breast:
No more, no more my worthless Name repeat,
Abandon me to this obscure Retreat;
Make haste from hence, my Sight will damp your Joy,
And the blest Calmness of your Soul destroy.
Lucinda. Think not I'll leave you to your Griefs a Prey:
No! here with you I will for ever stay,
And weep with you my coming Hours away:
Return each Sigh, and ev'ry moving Groan,
And to repeating Echo's make my Moan,
And tell them how unkind my lov'd Marissa's grown.

Marissa. To banish all Suspicions from your Mind,
And that you may not think me still unkind,
I'll let you know the Cause that makes me mourn,
The Cause that does my Joy to Sorrow turn:
But oh! a Loss so vast, so vastly great,
Who can without a Flood of Tears repeat!
It much too strong for my Resolves does prove,
And do's my tend'rest, softest Passions move:
Disturbs the Peace, the Quiet of my Mind,
And for some Minutes makes me less resign'd:
I to my Reason willingly would yield,
But strugling Nature keeps by Force the Field;
Compel'd, I stoop to her imperious Sway,
And thus each hour, methinks, I hear her say,
Wretched Marissa! all thy Comfort's fled,
And all thy Joy with thy lov'd Mother dead:
A Mother, who with ev'ry Grace was blest,
With all the Ornaments of Virtue dress'd;
With whatsoe'er Religion recommends;
The best of Wives, of Mothers, and of Friends.
And should not such a Loss Complaints inspire?
Their Apathy let Stoicks still admire,
And strict Obedience to their Rules require:
And on morose, ill-natur'd, thoughtless Fools,
Impose the rigid Notions of their Schools:
Insensibility were here a Fault,
And 'tis a Doctrine which I never taught:
Tears are becoming, and a Tribute due
To one so worthy, and so dear to you.
By her thus urg'd, I gave my Sorrow way,
And did the Dictates of my Grief obey:
In this Recess, remote from Human Kind,
I thought I shou'd not Interruption find:
Most mind themselves, the Absent are forgot;
And this had doubtless been Marissa's Lot,
Had not the kind Lucinda's tender Care
Sought out this close Asylum of Despair,
And brought her hither all my Woes to share.

Lucinda. Such as have heard of good Philinda's Name,
Cannot with Justice sad Marissa blame:
A Mother's Loss, and such a Mother too,
Can't, my dear Friend, but be deplor'd by you.
All you cou'd wish she was; as Angels kind,
As Nature lib'ral, of a God-like Mind;
Steady as Fate, and constant in her Love;
One whom nor Wrongs, nor yet Affronts cou'd move
To mean Revenge, or a malicious Thought:
She liv'd those Truths her holy Faith had taught:
Joy cou'd not raise, nor Grief depress her Mind,
She still was calm, sedate, and still resign'd.

Marissa. Yes, she was more, much more than you can name,
Cheerful, obliging, gen'rous, still the same:
The Good she prais'd, the Absent did defend,
And was to the Distrest a constant Friend:
Full of Compassion, and from Censure free,
And of a most extensive Charity:
With winning Sweetness she did still persuade,
And her Reproofs were prudently convey'd:
In softest Language she'd the Vicious blame,
And none e'er lov'd with a more ardent Flame:
Her Friends Concerns she kindly made her own,
For them her greatest Care, her chief Regard was shown:
At no Misfortune she did e'er repine,
But still submitted to the Will Divine:
No discontented Thoughts disturb'd her Breast,
What ever happen'd, she still thought was best:
When her last Sickness came, that dire Disease
Which did on her with sudden Fury seize,
With utmost Rage the Fort of Life assail,
Resolv'd by racking Tortures to prevail;
O with what Patience did she bear her Pain,
And all th' Attacks of cruel Death sustain!
The dreadful Ill could not molest her Mind,
There she did still a happy Calmness find,
A well fixt Pleasure, a substantial Joy,
Serenity which nothing could destroy,
Sweet Antepast of what she finds above,
Where she's now blest with what she most did love;
That sov'reign Good which did her Soul inflame,
And whose Fruition was her utmost Aim;
And in whose Presence she do's now possess
A long desir'd, and endless Happiness.

Lucinda. Since she from all the Pains of Life is free,
And in Possession of Felicity,
'Tis unbecoming such a Grief to show,
As can from nothing but ungovern'd Passion flow.

Marissa. 'Tis, I confess, a Fault; but who can part
From one she loves, without a bleeding Heart?

Lucinda. 'Tis hard, I own, but yet it may be done;
Such glorious Victories are sometimes won:
Time will at length the greatest Grief subdue,
And shall not Reason do the same for you?
Reason, which shou'd our Actions always guide,
And o'er our Words, and o'er our Thoughts preside:
Passions should never that ascendant gain,
They were for Service made, and not to reign:
Yet do not think I your past Sorrow blame,
Were the Loss mine, sure, I shou'd do the same,
But having paid the Debt to Nature due,
No more the Dictates of my Grief pursue.
From that dark Grave where her lov'd Body lies,
Raise, my Marissa , your dejected Eyes,
And view her Soul ascending to the Skies,
By Angels guarded, who in charming Lays,
Sing as they mount, their great Creator's Praise;
And to celestial Seats their Charge convey,
To never ending Bliss, and never ending Day:
And is't not cruel, or at least unkind
To wish that she were still to Earth confin'd,
Still forc'd to bend beneath her Load of Clay?
Methinks I hear the glorious Vision say,
What is't, Marissa , makes you still complain,
Are you concern'd that I am void of Pain,
And wou'd you have me wretched once again?
Have me t'exchange this Bliss for Toil and Fear,
And all these Glories for a Life of Care?
Or is't th'Effect of a too fond Desire,
Do's Love, mistaken Love, these Thoughts inspire?
Is it my Absence you so much deplore,
And do you grieve because I'm yours no more,
Because with me you can no more Converse,
No more repeat your wrongs, or tell me your distress,
No more by my Advice your Actions steer,
And never more my kind Instructions hear?
If this do's cause your Grief, no more Complain;
'Twill not be long e'er we shall meet again;
Shall meet all Joy in these bright Realms of Love,
And never more the Pains of Absence prove:
Till that blest Time, with decent Calmness wait,
And bear unmov'd the Pressures of your Fate.
Marissa. Yes, my dear Friend, I your Advice will take,
Dry up my Tears, and these lov'd Shades forsake:
I can't resist, when Kindness leads the Way;
I'm wholly yours, and must your Call obey:
With you to hated Crouds and Noise I'll go,
And the best Proofs of my Affection show:
But where soe'er I am, my troubl'd Mind
Will still to my Philinda be confin'd;
Her Image is upon my Soul imprest,
She lives within, and governs in my Breast:
I'll strive to live those Virtues she has taught,
They shall employ my Pen, my Tongue, my Thought:
Where e'er I go her Name my Theme shall prove,
And what soe'er I say, shall loudly speak my Love.