By whofe juft Sentence they muft go From all the ugly Stains of Luft and Villany; Looks thro' the Darkness of the gloomy Night, Or terrify his Thoughts with wild Defpair Ne'er fhock'd thy Breaft ; Nor cou'd it in the dreadful'ft Figure dreft: : Whom the dire Ghofts of Crimes departed haunt: } Arm'd with bold Innocence thou could't that Mormo`dare, And on the bare-fac'd King of Terrours ftare, As free from all th' Effects, as from the Caufe, of Fear. As if both parted by Confent : No Murmur, no Complaining, no Delay, Death feem'd to glide with Pleafure in, Like fome well acted Comedy, Life swiftly pass'd, (beneath, Thou, like its Actors feem'd'it in borrow'd Habit here And could'st, as easily As they do that, put of Mortality: Thou did'ft breathe out thy Soul as free as common Breath, As unconcern'd as they are in a feigned Death. Old. She fell, choak'd with a thousand Sighs; And now the pleas'd expiring Saint, Her Her dying Looks, where new-born Beauty fhines, Ten thousand hidden Glories rufh'd abroad. Roch. Valent, And shakingHand, juft in the Pangs of Death, Fain wou'd have fpoke, but faulter'd in his Speech Groaning he lay, and fetch'd long double Sighs;(P. Arth, Whilft with thick Mifts Death fwims upon his Eyes. Blac. His Eyeballs roul in Death Behold the ling ring Souls convulfive Strife, (of Gran. p. 1. His thick fhort Breath catches at parting Life. Dryd. Conq. He then Fail'd in his Speech, and rattled in his Throat; In that Sigh fled her Soul, And left her Load of Mifery behind. Rowe. J. Shore. Ha! She is going: fee, her languishing Eyes (Theod. Draw in their Beams, the Sleep of Death is on her. Lee. Then iron fleep, in Darkness and in Death, Clos'd his benighted Eyes.- Broome. Hom. She faints: pale Death feals up her fparkling Eyes, While from her Cheeks the crimson Luftre flies. Laud. Virg. And, like the vanishing Sound of Bells, grows lefs The Soul is packing up, and just on Wing, Like parting Swallows, when they seek the Spring: And flies to Countries, more unknown than those. Dryd. (Conq. of Gran. p. 2. My Soul is on the Beach, and ftrait muft launch Into th' Abyss of the black Sea of Death: But oh! he's come: cold Tyrant, I obey, And hug thy Dart, that bears my Life away. Lee. Mithr. The Malady, that's lodg'd within, grows ftronger; I feel the Shock of my approaching Fate; My Heart too trembles at his distant March, Nor can I utter more The Hand of Death Lee Theod. Comes, like eternal Night, with her dark Wing, From these my aged Eyes. The Lamp of Life burns dimly in Lee. Mithr. my Breaft; (Job. (Tamerl. Rowe. Soon from its beating Toil my weary Heart will reft. Blac. Rowe. Tamerl. Like a dim winking Lamp, that flashes brightly With parting Light, and itrait is dark for ever. Rowe.Tam. The peaceful Slumber of the Grave is on me: Ev'n all the tedious Day of Life I've wander'd, Bewilder'd with Misfortunes: my Home: At length 'tis Night, and I have reach'd Weary I lay me down, and fleep for ever. Rowe. Tamerl. Stung with Remorfe, and grip'd with conscious Fear, Eliza. And, fhudd'ring, felt the cold Embrace of Death, (Blac. He agonizing lay, His Strength declining by a swift Decay! Cold Cold Sweats, deep Sighs, fhort, interrupted Breath, And Life's dim Lamp a doubtful Flame maintain'd: Still with their lovely Hue and flow'ry Honours crown'd. (Blac. Eliza Ev'n thus the Youth, altho' bereav'd of Breath, Preferv'd a pleasing Look, and smil'd-in Death: So a young Deer, whofe Front the fprouting Horn With the firft Velvet Honours does adorn, Prais'd for his Beauty, for his Vigour fear'd, At once the Pride and Envy of the Herd; Ah! hapless Fate! by cruel Huntsmen flain, Lies, lovely Victim! bleeding on the Plain: So a young Cedar, whofe confpicuous Head The fragrant Groves on Mocha's Hills furvey'd ; Which, ftrait and tall, the prefent Glory stood, The Hopes and promis'd Guardian of the Wood; Fell'd by the Steels untimely Stroke, defcends, And on the Ground his beauteous Limbs extends. Blac.Eliza. Death, like a Froft on a too early Spring, Steals on thy Bloffoms. How. Velt. Virg. To die when thou art young, Is but too foon to fall afleep, And lie afleep too long. D'Aven, Siege of Rhodes. When Tides of youthful Blood run high, And Scenes of promis'd Joys are nigh; Health prefuming, Beauty blooming, Oh, how dreadful 'tis to die! Add. Rof. We should thy full ripe Virtues wrong, Fate, when the did thy vig'rous Growth behold, Forgot thy Tale of Years, and thought thee old: Outrun thy Age, and left flow Time behind : Which made thee reach Maturity fo foon, His Life in middle Age; at's Birth a perfect Man. Oldh This Hero blafted in the Bloffom lies: The lovely Flow'r, hard Fate! but blows and dies : And, while we praise its Beauty, finks away. Blac. Eliza. E. EAGLE. The Bird that bears th' Artillery of Jove; The ftrong pounc'd Eagle. Dryd. Ovid. Doft thou inftruct the Eagle how to fly, To fcorn the low'r Air, and tow'r the Sky? On founding Pinions borne, he mounts and fhrowds Prunes ev'ry Feather, views her felf with Care, As the ftrong Eagle in the filent Wood, And, tow'ring round his Mafter's Earth-born Foes, } Lifts his fierce Talon high, and darts the forked Fire. Prior. Thus |