The Same

By Death, alas, here Conquer'd lies,
She who from All late bore the Prize
In Beauty, Wit, Vertue Divine:
In whom those Graces did combine,
Which we admir'd in others see,
When they but singly scatter'd be!

Who her, so Great, can paint beside,
The Pencil her own Hand did guide?
What Verse can celebrate her Fame,
But such as She herself did frame?

Though much Excellence she did show,
And many Qualities did know,
Yet this, alone, she could not tell,
To wit, How much she did excel.
Or if her Worth she rightly knew,
More to her Modesty was due,
That Parts in her no Pride could raise
Desirous still to merit Praise,
But fled, as she deserv'd, the Bays.
Contented always to retire,
Court Glory she did not admire;
Although it lay so neer and faire,
It's Grace to none more open were:
But with the World how should she close,
Who Christ in her first Childhood chose?

So with her Parents she did live,
That they to Her did Honour give,
As she to them. In a Num'rous Race
And Vertuous, the highest Place
None envy'd her: Sisters, Brothers
Her Admirers were and Lovers:
She was to all s'obliging sweet,
All in One Love to her did meet.
A Virgin-Life not only led,
But it's Example might be said.
The Ages Ornament, the Name
That gave her Sex and Country Fame.

Those who her Person never knew,
Will hardly think these things are true:
But those that did, will More believe,
And higher things of her conceive.

Thy Eyes in tears now, Reader, steep:
For Her if't lawful be to weep,
Whose blessed and Seraphique End
Angels in Triumph did attend.