To the Pious Memory of the Accomplish'd Young Lady, Mrs. ANNE KILLIGREW, Excellent in the two Sifter-Arts of Poefie, and Painting. An ODE.

TH

By the fame Hand..

"Hou youngest Virgin-Daughter of the Skies,
Made in the laft Promotion of the Bleft;
Whofe Palms, new pluckt from Paradise,
In fpreading Branches more fublimely rife,
Rich with Immortal Green above the reft:
Whether, adopted to fome Neighbouring Star,
Thou roll'st above us, in thy wand'ring Race,
Or, in Proceffion fixt and regular,

Mov'd with the Heav'ens Majestick Pace ;
Or, call'd to more Superiour Bliss,
Thou tread'ft, with Seraphims, the vast Abyss:
Whatever happy Region is thy place,
Ceafe thy Celestial Song a little space;
(Thou wilt have time enough for Hymns Divine,
Since Heav'ns Eternal Year is thine.)
Hear then a Mortal Mufe thy Praise rehearse,
In no ignoble Verse;

But fuch as thy own Voice did practise here,
When thy first Fruits of Poefie were giv❜n;
To make thy felf a welcome Inmate there:
While yet a young Probationer,
And Candidate of Heav'n.

II.

If by Traduction came thy Mind,
Our Wonder is the lefs to find

A Soul fo charming from a Stock so good;
Thy Father was transfus'd into thy Blood:
So wert thou born into a tuneful ftrain,
(An early, rich, and inexhausted Vein.)
But if thy Præexifting Soul

Was form'd, at first, with Myriads more,

It did through all the Mighty Poets roul,
Who Greek or Latin Laurels wore,
And was that Sappho laft, which once it was before.
If so, then cease thy flight, O Heaven-born Mind!
Thou haft no Drofs to purge from thy rich Ore:
Nor can thy Soul a fairer Manfion find,

Than was the Beauteous Frame the left behind:
Return to fill or mend the Quire, of thy Celestial

III.

[kind.
May we prefume to fay, that at thy Birth,
New joy was fprung in Heav'n, as well as here on Earth.
For fure the Milder Planets did combine
On thy Aufpicious Horoscope to shine,

And ev'n the moft Malicious were in Trine.
Thy Brother-Angels at thy Birth

Strung each his Lyre, and turn'd it high,
That all the People of the Sky

Might know a Poetefs was born on Earth.
And then, if ever, Mortals Ears
Had heard the Mufick of the Spheres!
And if no cluft'ring Swarm of Bees
On thy fweet Mouth diftill'd their golden Dew,
'Twas that, fuch vulgar Miracles,

Heav'n had not Leafure to renew:

For all thy Bleft Fraternity of Love

Solemniz'd there thy Birth, and kept thy, Holy-day

O Gracious God! How far have we
Prophan'd thy Heav'nly Gift of Poefy?
Made proffitute and profligate the Mufe,
Debas'd to each obfcene and impious ufe,
Whofe Harmony was firft ordain'd Above
For Tongues of Angels, and for Hymns of Love?
O wretched We! why were we hurry'd down
This lubrique and adult'rate Age,

(Nay added fat Pollutions of our own)
T' increase the fteaming Ordures of the Stage?
What can we fay t'excufe our Second Fall?
Let this thy Vestal, Heaven, attone for all:

Her Arethufian Stream remains unfoil'd,

Unmixt with Foreign Filth, and undefil'd,

Her Wit was more than Man, her Innocence a Child!
V.

Art the had none, yet wanted none:

For Nature did that Want fupply,
So rich in Treafures of her Own,
She might our boafted Stores defy:
Such Noble Vigour did her Verse adorn,

That it feem'd borrow'd, where 'twas only born.
Her Morals too were in her Bofom bred,

By great Examples daily fed,

What in the beft of Books, her Father's Life, fhe read.
And to be read her felf the need not fear,

Each Teft, and ev'ry Light, her Muse will bear,
Though Epictetus with his Lamp were there.
Ev'n Love (for Love fometimes her Muse exprest)
Was but a Lambent-flame which play'd about her Breast:
Light as the Vapours of a Morning Dream,
So cold her felf, whilft the fuch Warmth expreft,
'Twas Cupid bathing in Diana's Stream.

VI.

Born to the Spacions Empire of the Nine,
One wou'd have thought, the fhou'd have been content
To manage well that Mighty Government;
But what can young ambitious Souls confine?
To the next Realm the ftretcht her Sway,
For Painture near adjoining lay,

A plenteous Province, and alluring Prey.
A Chamber of Dependences was fram'd,
(As Conquerors will never want Pretence,
When arm'd, to juftifie th' Offence)

}

And the whole Fief, in right of Poetry the claim'd. The Country open lay without Defence:

For Poets frequent Inrodes there had made,

And perfectly cou'd reprefent

The Shape, the Face, with ev'ry Lineament;

And all the largeDomains which the Dumb-sister sway'd,

All bow'd beneath her Government, Receiv'd in Triumph wherefoe'er fhe went. Her Pencil drew, whate'er her Soul defign'd,

[Mind.

And of the happy Draught furpafs'd the Image in her
The Sylvan Scenes of Herds and Flocks,
And fruitful Plains and barren Rocks,
Of fhallow Brooks that flow'd fo clear,
The bottom did the top appear;
Of deeper too and ampler Floods,
Which as in Mirrors, fhew'd the Woods;
Of lofty Trees, with Sacred Shades,
And Perspectives of pleafant Glades,
Where Nymphs of brightest Form appear,
And fhaggy Satyrs ftanding near,
Which them at once admire and fear.
The Ruins too of fome Majestick Piece,
Boafting the Pow'r of ancient Rome or Greece,
Whose Statues, Freezes, Columns broken lie,
And tho' defac'd, the Wonder of the Eye,
What Nature, Art, bold Fiction e'er durft Frame,
Her forming Hand gave Feature to the Name.
So ftrange a Concourfe ne'er was feen before,
But when the peopl'd Ark the whole Creation bore.

VII.

w

The Scene then changed, with bold Erected Look Our Martial King the fight with Reverence ftrook: For not content t' exprefs his Outward Part, Her Hand call'd out the Image of his Heart, His Warlike Mind, his Soul devoid of Fear, His High-defigning Thoughts, were figur'd there, As when, by Magick, Ghofts are made appear.

Our Phenix Queen was pourtrai'd too so bright, Beauty alone cou'd Beauty take fo right:

Her Dress, her Shape, her matchless Grace,
Were all obferv'd, as well as Heavenly Face.
With fuch a Peerlefs Majefty fhe ftands,

As in that Day fhe took the Crown from facred Hands:

Before a Train of Heroines was feen,

la Beauty foremost, as in Rank, the Queen!

Thus nothing to her Genius was deny'd, But like a Ball of Fire the further thrown, Still with a greater Blaze she fhone, And her bright Soul broke out on ev'ry fide. What next she had design'd, Heaven only knows, To fuch Immod' rate Growth her Conqueft rofe, That Fate alone its Progrefs cou'd oppose.

VIII.

Now all those Charms, that blooming Grace,
The well-proportion'd Shape, and beauteous Face,
Shall never more be feen by Mortal Eyes;
In Earth the much lamented Virgin lies!
Not Wit, nor Piety cou'd Fate prevent;
Nor was the cruel Destiny content
To finish all the Murder at a blow,
To sweep at once her Life, and Beauty too,
But, like a harden'd Felon, took a pride
To work more Mischievously flow,

`And plunder'd first, and then destroy'd.
double Sacrilege on things Divine,
To rob the Relique, and deface the Shrine!
But thus Orinda dy'd:

Heaven, by the fame Disease, did both translate, As equal were their Souls, fo equal was their Fate. IX.

Mean time her Warlike Brother on the Seas His waving Streamers to the Winds displays, And Vows for his Return, with vain Devotion, pays. Ah, Generous Youth, that Wish forbear,

The Winds too foon will waft thee here!
Slack all thy Sails, and fear to come,

Alas, thou know'ft not, thou art wreck'd at home!
No more fhalt thou behold thy Sifter's Face,
Thou haft already had her laft Embrace.
But look aloft, and if thou ken'ft from far,
Among the Pleiad's a New-kindl'd Star,
If any Sparkles, than the reft, more bright,
Tis the that shines in that propitious Light.

X. When