English poem
To the MEMORY of Mrs. ROBERDEAU
by Anonymous
Muse of elegy and tears, Weeping o'er the buried years, Where the virtuous lowly laid, Shew the ruins death has made, In soft language give relief, To the swelling tides of grief, That for thee shall ever flow, Gentle spouse of Roberdeau.
Heroes on the bleeding soil, Hear of female worth a while; Let me plant a softer name, With your everlasting fame. Once I saw her—she was fair, Queenly in her shape and air; Winning graces stole my love, To admire her and approve; While my grateful thoughts did rise To the enthroned of the skies, Who so bounteously gave birth, To such excellence on earth.
She was charming as young light On the sable skirts of night; For her goodness serv'd to shew, What sometimes we cease to know, That true merit yet may rest, In a handsome woman's breast; And the body lovely made, With like mind be jewelled: Now the character is great, Virtue, in fair beauty, set.
Every thought of her's was love, With the beams of truth inwove; Good nature, calm, and placid still, In her smile was visible; While the noble majesty Of her countenance, and eye, Gave her where she came soft sway, And bade who did behold, obey.
Heaven to her did gifts dispense, In rich store of native sense; Education, to the height, Polished and made them bright; But religion's warmest soul Pour'd new splendours on the whole. This prepar'd her, for the bright Inheritance, of saints in light; To which high scene of bliss remov'd, She hymns the Saviour that she lov'd, And in extasy makes known, With the warblers round the throne, What supreme of bliss they know, Who have served God below.
Fondest husband, cease to mourn, Low-dejected o'er her urn; Rather call your praises forth, To the God, who so much worth, To your bosom, first bestow'd, By your early fancy woo'd; And so long hath bade her stay From the realms of happy day, With sweet smile of graces new, To adorn the world and you.
Cease fond husband to deplore, Or to say she is no more; For her form shall yet arise, And you'll meet her in the skies.
More by Anonymous
- To the Memory of Ben Jonson
- To the Memory of Major FLEMING, who fell at the battle of Princeton
- To the Memory of Mr. Dryden
- To the Memory of Mrs. Mary M'kean
- TO THE MEMORY of the same LADY, A MONODY. A.D. 1747
- To the most Honourable the Earl of OXFORD, The Lord High Treasurer
- To the Mother
- To the Nightingale Coming in the Spring; to Invite Chlos from the Tumults of the Town to the Innocent Retreat…