bend Low wond'rous low confus'd they fall And in thick Night descend Down round a spacious gloomy Grove beneath Close set with aged Cypress Trees Which each with shiv'ring Horror sees With flutt'ring Wings their Iourney past Disorderly they light at last Amaz'd they view the dismal Grove Unlike the Scenes they view'd above Ah! far unlike the Bowr's of Love With trembling Eyes they look within And down agast they totter all Depriv'd of Voice depriv'd of Breath They find these Mansions are the Courts of Death No Ray of their bright God can here Amidst this solid Gloom appear Their melancholy Thoughts to chear As interposing Bodies cloud his radiant Light So is their Lustre here eclips'd by Death's oreshadowing Night VI. Above their head they view the Forrest bare Ill-boding Birds instead of Leaves they see Sit croaking on their tops and cov'ring every Tree The horrid Groans of Ghosts invade The shatt'ring Branches and molest the shade Murmurs and Sighs make all the Breezes there The Musick which the Goddess Death delights alone to hear Thro' all the Vale no blooming Plant appears The deadly Soil nought but rank Poysons bears And ev'n those unripen'd lye Scatter'd beneath the Trees and dye Here hoary Winter reigns thro' all the Year Spread ore with Tombs and Graves the spacious Field Does a vast Crop of Death and dire Destruction yield So dread a Burthen does it bear Such weighty Monuments of Pomp are there The Vale resounds thro'out with Moans And streams of Blood opprest with Bones Instead of softer Murmurs make complaint in Groans VII Within the awful Grove a Temple stands Long built by Fate 's unalterable Hands Round is its shape four Iron Gates appear To let in all for all must enter here Not in one posture do they ever stand But as the dreadful Goddess please They open or they shut with ease Whene'r she lifts her sacred Wand Or only beckons with a bloody Hand Old Age and Pains are Porters to the Doors And Goddess Death they make the whole Creation yours The Gates with putrid Rust are overspread And all besmear'd with Blood of Lovers dead The more the rusty Iron crumbles down The Gates are still the stronger grown Their Wickets of themselves clap to and open fast And flakes of clotted Gore they throw Off with their aged Rust below Thus by their own decay they do for ever last VIII Death's Servants all in black appear The Liv'ry of their Queen they wear And mournful black the Walls of those Apartments bear Here pitchy Tapers cast their Shades And a thick Wreath of Smoak in Clouds ore all the Temple spreads The Goddess self behind her gloomy Shrine Does her grim Head upon her Arm recline Behold two Images before her stand The greatest mortal Beauty here Upon her left does pale appear The greatest mortal Warriour on the other hand Above her Head Diseases bear Her bloody Crown all flaming in the Air. Dark is her Shrine her Crown alone Glares with a glim'ring Dread and lights her sultry Throne IX No precious Stones within this Crown are worn But fixt at top a Scull it bore Oreflowing with black putrid Gore And dire discolour'd sulph'rous Flame does all its Parts adorn Diseases hov'ring ore her Throne Infected by each other tumble down Fast does the one upon the other drop And by their Fall the tott'ring Crown they prop. Faint to their Goddess each arrives Her pale wan Lips they flutter ore Her blasting Breath does all their Pains restore And thus ev'n Death it self revives X. Behold the Images are nearer plac't And now the Goddess sets them close at last See Florimena ore the Head May of the lovely female fair be read In Characters of black that Name is understood See ore the other's Head a Name Renown'd ore all the Coasts of Fame Behold 't is character'd in Blood 'T is glorious CUTTS her Noble Lord Who ev'n in gloomy shades of Death shall ever be ador'd XI Heavens How the awful Goddess stares Behold her fiery Eyes see how their Lightning glares See what a storm of sulphrous Breath she pours Reluctant Fires and rowling Smoak From her wide Iaws in flashes broke See see towards the Fair she moves Blasts all her happy Days her tender Hours Blasts with the noysome Breath which from her came The purest light of Passion 's sacred Flame And blasts her Hero's fondest Loves XII Behold her Scepter dread with Iron rust Whose pond'rous Load none else can bear No longer lies beneath her Throne Death's Scepter buried deep in Dust Aloft with pain she lifts and shakes in Air. Inrag'd she pounds on Carcasses and Bones Distorted Looks in Flashes fly Her very Scepter trembles and her Crown Sway'd by the Weight seems tott'ring down And now the frowning Goddess swells and groans As if her self ev'n Death her self would dye The lovely loving Images she parts Heaves up her Scepter now relents And strait the threaten'd stroak repents But soon again her Rage does glow She leaps and bounds and strikes the Blow The very Image of the Hero starts Loud on her own dread Name Death proudly calls Heavens Now the stroak is giv'n and Florimena falls XIII This must be all but visionary Dream Which thus my Thoughts thro' Indigestion frame This killing Object cannot be A Death which makes me almost dye to see This wild Chimaera but in fancy lyes 'T is then but fancy too that Florimena dyes Fancy Alas Too well I know Whate'r against my Soul may flow My willing Mind would never fancy so Not all the Rage of cruel War The mighty Hero's Soul could move Now mark his Thoughts behold they jar 'T is worse than Death not Life he loses but he loses Love XIV And now another Scene appears Death's Temple opens and within The dreadful bloody Altar's seen To which the lovely Corps her Priestess bears Off rings of Skulls and Bones she brings The sacred Load into the Flame she flings And the great Conquest of her Monarch sings The eager Flames the Prey destroy The ghastly Priestess grins a Smile Pleas'd with the Ruin of the charming Pile And the Fire crackles with excess of Ioy. The sacred Altar where the Priestess stood Still blushes for her Crime while she grows drunk with Blood XV. The Monster Death is blind we know She had not else us'd Florimena so See see the beauteous Charmer lyes And in the Flames expires A Sacrifice to Death she 's made While yet no living Off'ring to great Love she paid To Love who mourns his now extinguish'd Fires Hark thro' the Courts of Death a dismal sound In hollow voice does from all sides rebound Hark Florimena is the Name Swiftly the Noise in Ecchoes flyes The Ecchoes fainter the lov'd Noise proclaim And ev'n the very Name of Florimena dyes Rise Muses rise your flight prepare Quit the black Mansions of this Realm of Night Prepare make haste prepare your flight And cut the upper Air. Now Florimena does your Labours claim I 'll raise
a lasting Monument of aiery Fame Swist with the Name round the Creation fly And bear it kindly to the starry Sky While Heaven and Stars shall last fair Florimena shall not dye XVI To others aiery Fame shall be Blest Saint a solid Monument to thee Rais'd of the strongest and the loftiest Verse Which shall thy real Praise rehearse Built by thy weeping Poet's hands Firm as Death's Throne it self the Pile for ever stands The Throne of Death shall from thy Tomb arise Her Empire 's fixt where Florimena lyes Fam'd shall it stand when Ages shall be past My Grief alone shall here inspire My clowdy Grief shall flash out Fire No Muse shall loosely sing of you Death now since thou art seiz'd may seize the Muses too This Mausoleum shall for ever last The Muses Harmony would now appear But jarring Discord should they raise it here Let them not dare to strike their Lyre Unless the sound make all who hear expire In decent Mourning be you only seen Mourn Florimena dead fair Florimena was the Muses Queen XVII I now all Aid you bring besides refuse You Muses here your selves would want a Muse. Sorrow alone inspires my mournful Lays I sing with sorrow now fair Florimena's Praise Wither ye Laurels on the Poets Brow An Air of mourning thro' my Lines shall pass Since they can only tell that Florimena was She was indeed all we could wish her now Well may our Tears to her a Tribute fall To Florimena she deserves them all To her who when alive blest ev'ry sight To her alone who crown'd the use of light Tho' now in Death's dark gloomy night she lyes Our Tears are Off'rings due alive we offer'd up our Eyes XVIII Our Sorrow now more than our Love we find Sorrow tho always weeping is not blind Tho Love it self wants Eyes too plain we see Help'd by its Flames what our Misfortunes be Too fierce is Passion 's raging Fire In vain alas in vain we strive By Sorrow's streams to make its sparks expire Tears quench not burning Love but keep it more alive Whate'r bright Hymen's Lamps have Pow'r to do The Torch of Death with glaring light does all Disasters shew XIX Behold Queen Sorrow in a Mist appears A dusky Robe of foggy Clouds she wears Drawn by wing'd Sighs see how she slowly glides A smoaking Torch she bears extinguish'd in her Hands Pity and Love attend her Chariot's sides Still in one Posture leaning low she lies Fair is her Face but blubber'd are her Cheeks and blear'd her Eyes Her dewy Crown is set with largest Tears Above her awful Mother Silence stands And ore her Head Does a black melancholy Cov'ring spread Pourtray'd with inwrought Images of Ears The Banners of her Foe she bears Inly the troubled Goddess Sorrow moans Like Sybil's Priestesses she swells And ere she sighs that she will sigh foretels Or like the Sea by late past Storms opprest Heaves slowly up her panting Breast And heavily she groans The Matron Silence hates the Noise she made For she reigns only when her Daughter Sorrow's dead XX. Come Goddess come thy Ayres infuse A charming Eloquence Affliction bears My Helicon shall be compos'd of Tears Throw off thy sad Expressive Matron Silence now Unlock thy Tongue unlock thy Brow Like melting Canens mourning for her Love Breath out in sighs fair Florimena's Name Your Being to her Death you owe Teach me in melancholy Ayres to move And fix her charming Praise in Fame Of Florimena's Merits shall I boast The Earth shall know tho dear the Knowledge cost Know only Paradise and find it lost None of the Nine thee Goddess here I chuse Come thou inspiring Sorrow thou my Muse. XXI Sad shall the weeping World her Vertues know When she was griev'd she made all others so Such Softness her Affliction wore Thy self great Goddess could not move us more Like Influence in her Tears as in her Eyes she bore Whene'r she wept the World in floods she found And with another Deluge all the Globe lay drown'd O could my Soul frame the least Dawn of Hope That Plaints and Wailings could afford Relief The Sluces of my Eyes should ope And I would rowl in an impetuous flood of Grief Yes let me plunge behold I go Her Praise shall bear me up in Fancy's Main Now now I rise now Thoughts like Seas Insult and dash me there a Billow plays And now my Sorrow sinks me down again XXII The mighty Artist when his Skill excell'd Drawing the Greek in all his height of Woe The Form the Limbs and Posture just did show But at the Face he found the Pencil fail'd A mourning Vail ore that he wisely drew So Florimena must thy Painter do For could I run your num'rous Vertues ore Tell if your Hero's Griefs or your lov'd Charms were more It were impossible to paint your Beauty too XXIII Beyond that Greek's this Hero's Grief appears He lost the best of Wives and Hope of glorious Heirs Lovely as Glory's self the Nymph he view'd Bright as his Arms Not Glory's self with greater Toils was woo'd His Tears he paid this Fair the other only had his Blood Ah! who successfully can paint So dread a Warriour and so sweet a Saint Terrour and Beauty in this Pair combin'd Well mortal Artists here may make a stand When Heav'n it self can scarce renew its hand Strong Mars and brighter Venus justly join'd In quest of this and this alone we rove If he had triumph'd more in War or she in Love XXIV When fam'd for wond'rous Conquests wond'rous Charms No Pride this conq'ring killing Beauty knew But mildly like her Lord she look'd on those she did subdue Grown by her Trophies great enough to yield To him victorious still in every Field Her self the dearest Prize surrender'd to his Arms. If any Pride this brightest Fair could move She felt it only in her Warriour's Love Proud of submitting to this Conq'rour more Than of all Captives she had made before Her Iudgment not her Scorn all else denies His Sword alone she found was pointed as her Eyes XXV Strange Pow'r of charming his Submission gains He conquers thus and triumphs through his Chains And yet alone he doubts of Conquest here This mildest Foe knew how to raise his Fear Against this Chief whole show'rs of Darts did move Many were lodg'd within his manly Breast But far far deeper deadlier than the rest He felt the thrilling Dart of strong victorious Love That did his Senses and his Thoughts controul Those pierc'd his Body only that his Soul But now no Balm can cure his wounded Heart For cruel trayt'rous Love with Death has chang'd his Dart. XXVI Great is the force of Paint yet it denies The skilful Touches of the Artist's Thought No Imag'ry from Colours can be brought To shew enough the Griefs of his or Beauties of her Eyes Orpheus 't is said by Notes could draw Forests and Rocks and Herds along In spight of Nature's settled Law To hear all ravish'd his
beyond all else could move So she excell'd in the extreamest Love The purest most seraphick Fires Were kindled in her fond Desires Soft as the thoughts of Angels was her Soul As free from looseness as 't is now above To the blest Partner of her Flame She gave it up entire for him its Wishes came He had it and enjoy'd it whole She gave her Soul her Love the dearest store She kindly gave her self gave all and wish'd to give him more XL. Whate'r soft female Beauty could bestow In Tides of flowing Ioys did rowl All that the Hero could desire to know Of most celestial Happiness did fall She too possest it most when so she gave it all But ah That Rival Death with horrid Charms Has snatch'd her pale and ghastly from her Lover's Arms. He cruel Monster does the World controul No want of Beauty here her Ruine prov'd Death was too much with her Attractions mov'd And the grim Tyrant forc'd her but because he lov'd XLI See where the lovely Charmer lyes Ah! Goddess Sorrow break your flight Too much already am I mov'd with this too mournful Sight See see the fairest Work that Heaven has made The fairest Blossom of the fair That ere blest mortal Eyes The Work of Heaven its choicest Care By an untimely fatal Blast Ere half the Bloom even of her youth is past O hard Decree of Fate must fade Why tell me why Was such a heavenly Fire So sweetly kindled here below If soon as it begun to raise Its glowing Brightness to a Blaze The self-same am'rous Breeze which did so gently blow Should by some whirl of Chance so rudely make its Flames expire See Goddess Sorrow see fair Florimena dead Weep weep till thou art blind beat fast thy Breast and gnash thy Teeth and knock thy Head XLII Prest by the Hand of Fate I knew All other Mortals lay And when he please to grasp us fast We all inevitably breath our last But never thought that Florimena too Must sure as vulgar Crowds decay How in the Dust can so much Beauty lye Strange that a thing so sacred so divine could dye XLIII Mark Sorrow mark the saddest Scene display'd Black as thy dismal Fancy ever lay'd Here must thy gloomy vast Idea's swell Heave heave thy panting tho' capacious Breast For the reception of such Pomp of Woe as cannot be exprest Inspire me with thy self tho' not even thou canst half the Horrour tell Too plain alas I view too plain This stroke of Fate 't is Florimena dyes I mark too well the mournful Scene I see thou shedst thy plenteous store And Sorrow's flowing Eyes are delug'd ore There all that 's lov'd all that is lovely lyes I gaze on the afflicting sight Death's dismal Torches glaring in my Eyes XLIV There the all-beauteous Nymph in Pangs appears See by the Taper's glimmering light I view the now amazing Sight Behold the sickly Taper hides its Fires The sickly Taper too almost expires Out let its Light be rudely blown Since the most radiant Florimena's Eyes Depriv'd of Lustre now are languid grown Let weaker Lights henceforth no more be shown Drown drown them all with flowing Tears For soon the lovely Charmer dies And like the setting Summer's Sun She who was Light it self and Brightness strait must to dark shades be gone XLV See where the Nymph's victorious Lord appears See how that Victor now lies bath'd in Tears Hear hear the Hero 's anxious Moans See on her Breast he leans his Head Dying almost lest Florimena should alas be dead And with more tort'ring Pain than hers he groans Unman'd and void of Courage rob'd of all Sunk with a load of Grief down prostrate does he fall Call oft on Heav'n and oft on Florimena call XLVI Behold Oh! killing Scene her dying Care Was now to offer up her latest grateful Pray'r If any Sins she had to be forgiv'n She sues for Mercy and she clears with Heav'n Pleas'd would she go but still Remorse does find On the account of her afflicted Love Tho flying to the Seats of blissful Ioys above She grieves to leave him lost in Woe behind Now his lov'd Hand in hers she presses fast A look ah too too languishing does cast And catching thick at Breath Close clasps him to her Soul and breaths these Words the last XLVII Now all my Ioys those Dreams of Life are gone And Night the lasting Night of Death is drawing on From thee unwillingly from thee I move My Strength decaying shews my Passion great What puts the Light out raises more the Heat I dye but dying thine Ah! happy ever prove I lose my Lover but preserve my Love Sustain me bear me bear me in thy Arms Thou best thou dearest Oh! adieu O thou my Lord my Love thou all ore Charms Take the last Pledge thy drying own can give No longer now alas no more I live Another last farewel I must renew Dear Man there they embrac'd and saint she murmur'd Be thou true XLVIII Here ceas'd the Nymph and gasping now she lies Lock'd are the Charms of her soft Voice and clos'd her Eyes In haste the Hero starts and spurns the ground Catches her faster and aloud he crys Plung'd in deep floods of Woe which dash him round Stay Charmer stay together will we go Yes by our tend'rest Loves it must it shall be so Dread and amazing does this Object seem Here Death is even terrible to him Now the last Pang from her fair Bosom flies And down opprest the Hero sinks as Florimena dies XLIX Whither ah whither does this Vision lead Ore Lawns methinks and Meads I rove On scatter'd dismal Yew and Cypress boughs I tread See see within a spacious Grove A mourning Hearse all deckt with white appears Within an open Coffin lies Which holds the loveliest Fair that ere bless'd human Eyes See at its side a gallant Chief does stand His Cask and Truncheon at his Feet he throws A Face all drown'd in Grief he shows Tears off his wreaths of Laurel from his Brow His useless and unvalu'd Laurels now The sacred Crowns disdainfully he tears And leans his pensive Head upon his Hand A view he takes of all his Blessings fled Fixt are his Looks and as he lov'd her living he adores her dead L. Those lovely Breasts the Warriour does behold Like Snow congeal'd stiff in Death's Frost and cold Those Breasts which still the living Nymph could shew Soft as that Milk which when a Child she drew No more the Hero must those Seats possess No more delightful Transports must he know No more their Sweets must all his Longings bless Nor on her charming Lips must he find Pleasures grow Her Eyes no more must with bright Motions roul No more divine Impulses of fierce Love must move the Warriour's Soul So much alas this loving Pair was one All his dear Sweets he sees with Florimena gone LI. When all the Rage of horrid War was ore In which a constant prosp'rous share he bore From all its
delightful Song The charming Poet softly plays They leap and dance and time his Lays No Rocks so hard but he could move And soften with his Ayres of Love This Sense had Herds but Florimena's Charms Had rais'd them with more fierce Alarms Far greater would their Transports be And only seeing Fair they would have follow'd thee XXVII As happy Martyrs Visions shew The Ioys of Heav'n which none till Death must view So I inlighten'd by thy Beauty's Flame See all the Extasies that Thought can frame Like the great immov'd Painter I conceive Such ravishing Idea's here My Pencil would my Soul deceive No fixt Proportion would the Painting bear But I at once should ramble ev'ry where O Sorrow here thy Curtain place Draw a black Veil ore this too beauteous Face To thee alas unhappily I run Alas the Veil is drawn and Death the willing Task has done XXVIII Like Lightning shining was her Beauty view'd From a fair Sky produc'd without a Cloud A while the glitt'ring Blessing strikes our Eyes From Heav'n its purest Flashes came A heav'nly yet destroying Flame Which only robs us of our Sight and dies The short liv'd Comfort shews our Fears And strait again it disappears Thro' darkest Gloom it brings us Light Its Life conducts us to our Death And guides us to black Shades beneath The momentary View it chears It only now makes all the Globe seem bright To pass like fleeting Thought away and leave more solid Night The World lies clad in Darkness when 't is gone Storms and fierce Show'rs descend and strait rolls the loud Thunder on XXIX Nor was it Beauty in this Nymph alone Which made her conqu'ring Warriour's Soul her own Tho wond'rous Magick in soft Glances lies Had it been true that Lovers and that Love were blind This bright victorious Fair had triumph'd in his Mind Not all his Love from Looks the Hero drew She had a Tongue as charming as her Eyes At once a Venus and Minerva too Let meaner Beauties only boast Their tuneful Voices Pow'r to move They find that when they charm the most Those Swains whose Fires before did glow A little ravish'd own a Love Their Breath can to that Height the Burnings blow But Florimena's Ayres much more could do They rais'd the Fire and kept it flaming too XXX This Nymph's each Cesture had some Grace that charm'd She could not look or speak or move But she commanded awful Love And the Beholders of all Sense disarm'd Her Glances still so bright they flew Or struck admiring Lovers blind Or all their Senses to their Eyes confin'd That they could only view Or if the sung Oh Heav'ns what Man can bear The very Thought of so divine an Ayre Methinks young Love with hov'ring Spirits flies Around her charming Lips and basks about her Eyes No God from the sweet Spheres such Transports drew So soft so melting soft her Voice and yet so piercing too XXXI Each Note excessive Transport brings And still she charms the more the more she sings Hark how pleas'd Eccho does the Tunes restore The Eccho soft returns the Ayres And seems to listen and has Fears Lest any other Eccho hears Her coy Narcissus here the Maid had mov'd Returning Florimena's Song The charming Youth she would have drawn along Not the reflection of a Face but Voice he would have lov'd Till Death shut in her Charms her Charms ah now no more In every part Musick the lovely Florimena wore In every part of her soft Frame and she was Harmony all ore XXXII The Sweets of Hybla from her Breath did flow And her fair lovely Cheeks did with fresh Beauty glow Devouring Death luxurious now I see Strange That no Art not its own Charms can save Beauty almost immortal from the Grave He blasts the blooming Fruit and he destroys the Tree Where'er the Glories of her Face were shown Beauty in hers could not be surer seen than Wonder in our own So lovely fair if such a thing there be As Beauty's self 't was Florimena and 't was only she XXXIII But now that Sun of Beauty and of Love Shines in an other Radiant Sphere above Tho'nought could clowd her clear Meridian Light When the short space was ended which she run And the bright Task of radiant Day was done She set all heavenly fair in Death's eternal Night Night and thick Darkness ore the Globe we find While smaller Beauties by her absence here Like Stars with fainter Light appear Which can't orecome those Clouds which she has left behind Such were the Beauties Florimena wore The Stars themselves were not in Number more Scarce the Nymph's other Merits can I trace Transported so With the aërial Images I grow Of all the blushing Glories in her beauteous Face My Pencil fond does of that Stroak appear And who ah who would stir that could dwell ever here XXXV Too lovely Face to be exprest in Paint Thou the most charming Shrine of the most charming Saint Seraphick Beauty reign'd thro' out the whole In all such wondrous Sweetness was display'd Divine in Body more divine in Soul The one on purpose for the other made Now may we mourn since Florimena's dead The second but more fair Astraea fled The first by Strise and impious Wars was driven But this when all her Pray'rs were heard And Peace to flourish ore the Globe prepar'd Flew pleas'd and calmly up to her own native Heaven XXXVI She fled indeed a blest Astraea there But left alas no Florimena here All that we good divine and lovely call Name but that Word it comprehends them all Her Darts could every Gazer hit One shooting Glance alone could move With lambent Fires of inoffensive Love She had the Flames of Beauty and the Warmth of Wit Swift as her Looks could her bright Notions rise Her Fancy and her Thought were clear and charming as her Eyes XXXVII Her Frame all Sweets which Love desires could boast In her possession the blest Hero knew The force of Beauty and of Passion too She was most lovely and she lov'd the most The transport of her mortal Charms If such the smallest Charm of hers could be Had been too vast a Prize for any other's Arms But on her Lord Ambrosial Show'rs did fall She prov'd by all her Actions Love could see He had and he deserv'd them all He only lovely to her Eyes did seem Fondly and dear she lov'd as fondly was belov'd by him XXXVIII Soft were the Flames their glowing Bosoms bore Such bright such pleasing Likeness in them lay Such equal Influence too they wore As those fair Beams which in her Eyes did play Him did this Nymph to all Mankind prefer Her Hero's Passion did she prize As dear as her own charming Eyes Those Myrtles which her Love made grow He valu'd high as his own Lawrel-Bough And of all Womankind he burnt alone for her Her in whose soft Embrace such Bliss was given He prest a Goddess and he thought himself in Heaven XXXIX As her bright Form