I cannot hold, for though to write be rude,
Yet to be silent were ingratitude,
And folly too; for if Posterity
Should never hear of such an one as she,
And onely know this Age's brutish fame,
They would think vertue nothing but a name
And though farre abler Pens must her define,
Yet her Adoption hath engaged mine:
And I must own, where merit shines so cleare,
'Tis hard to write, but harder to forbeare
Sprung from an Ancient and an honour'd Stemm,
Who lent her lustre, and she paid it them,
Who still in great and noble things appear'd,
Whom both their Country lov'd and yet they fear'd.
Match'd to another, good and great as they
Who did their Countrey both obleige and sway.
Behold her self! who had, without dispute,
More then both familys could contribute
What early Beauty Grief and Age had broke,
Her lovely reliques and her offspring spoke.
She was by Nature and her Parents care,
A woman long before most others are
But yet that antedated Season she
Improv'd to Vertue, not to Liberty;
For she was still, in either state of Life,
Meek as a Virgin, prudent as a wife.
And she well knew, although so young and faire,
Justly to mix Obedience, Love and Care;
Whilst to her children she did still appeare
Soe wisely kind, so tenderly severe,
That they from her Rule and Example brought
A native honour, which she stampt and taught
Nor can a single pen enough commend
Soe kind a Sister, and soe cleare a friend.
A wisedom from above did her secure,
Which, though 'twas peacable, was ever pure
And if well order'd Commonwealth must be
Patterns for every private Family,
Her house, rul'd by her hand, aw'd by her Ey,
Might be a pattern for a Monarchy
Her noble bounty was her prudent care,
Who handsom freedom gave, yet regular
Salomon's wisest woman less could doe;
She built her house, but this preserv'd hers too
She was so pious, that when she did Dye,
She scarce chang'd Place, I'me sure not company
Her zeale was primitive, and practick too;
She did believe, and pray, and read, and doe.
Soe firm an equall Soule she had engross'd,
Just even to those that disobleig'd her most,
She lost all sence of wrong, glad to beleive
That it was in her power to forgive
Her almes I may admire, but nere relate,
But her own works shall praise her in the Gate
Her life was chequer'd with afflictive yeares,
And even her comforts season'd in her teares
Scarce for a husband's loss her eys were dry'd,
And that loss by her children half supply'd,
When Heav'n was pleas'd not those deare props t'afford,
But tore most off, by sickness, or a Sword.
She, who in them could still their father boast,
Was a fresh widdow every Son she lost.
Litigious hands did her of Right deprive,
That after all 'twas pennance to survive
Yet she these Griefs had nobly undergone,
Which few support at all, but better none.
Such a submissive Greatness who can find?
A Tender heart, with so resolv'd a mind?
But she, though sencible, was still the same,
Of a Resigned Soule, untainted Fame;
Nor were her Vertues coursly sett, for she
Out=did Example in Civillity:
To bestow blessings, to obleige, Relieve,
Was all for which she could endure to live,
And had a Joy higher in doing good,
Then they to whom the benefit accrew'd.
Though none of honour had a quicker sence,
Never had woman more of complacence;
Yet lost it not in empty forms, but still
Her nature noble was, her Soule Gentile.
And as in Youth she did extract, for she
The verdure had, without the vanity,
Soe she in Age was grave and milde to all,
Was not morose, but was majesticall.
Thus from all other women she had skill
To draw their good, but nothing of their ill;
And since she knew the mad Tumultuous world,
Saw Crowns revers'd, Temples to ruine hurl'd;
She in Retirement chose to shine and burne,
As Ancient Lampes in some Egiptian Urne.
At last, when spent with sickness, Grief and Age,
Her Guardian Angell did her death presage:
So that by strong impulse she chearfully
Dispenced blessings, and went home to dy;
That soe she might, when to that place remov'd,
Marry his Ashes, whom she ever Lov'd.
She dy'd, gain'd a reward, and pay'd a debt:
The Sun himself did never brighter set!
Happy were they that knew her, and her End,
More happy they that did from her descend:
A double blessing they may hope to have,
One she convey'd to them, and one she gave
All that are hers are therefore sure to be
Bless'd by inheritance and Legacy
A Royall birth had less advantage been,
'Tis more to dy a Saint, then Live a Queen.