BY MRS. LETITIA PILKINGTON.*
WHILE funk in deepest folitude and woe,
My ftreaming eyes with ceafelefs forrow flow,
While anguish wears the fleepless night away,
And fresher grief awaits returning day;
Encompass'd round with ruin, want and fhame,
Undone in fortune, blafted in my fame;
Loft to the foft endearing ties of life,
And tender names of daughter, mother, wife;
Can no receis from calumny be found?
And yet can faté inflict á deeper wound!
As one who, in a dreadful tempeft tofs'd,
If thrown by chance upon fome desert coast,
Calmly a while furveys the fatal shore,
And hopes that fortune can inflict no more;
Till fome fell ferpent makes the wretch his prey, 15
Who 'scaped in vain the dangers of the fea;
So I, who hardly 'fcap'd domeftic rage,
Born with eternal forrows to engage,
Now feel the pois'nous force of fland'rous tongues,
Who daily wound me with envenom'd wrongs. 20
Shed then a ray divine, all gracious heav'n,
Pardon the foul that fues to be forgiv'n.
Born 1712; dyed 17... Her maiden name was Van Lerven,
'Tho' cruel humankind relentless prove,
And leaft resemble thee in acts of love;
Tho' friends, who shou'd administer relief,
Add pain to woe, and mifery to grief,
And oft, too oft! with hypocritic air,
Condemn thofe faults in which they deeply fhare:
Yet thou, who doft our various frailties know,
And fee'ft each spring from whence our actions flow,
Shalt, while for mercy to thy throne I fly,
Regard the lifted hand, and ftreaming eye.
Thou didst the jarring elements compofe,
When this harmonious univerfe arofe;
O fpeak the tempeft of the foul to peace,
Bid the tumultuous war of paffion cease;
Receive me to thy kind paternal care,
And guard me from the horrors of despair.
And fince no more I boaft a mother's name,
Nor in my children can a portion claim,
The helpless babes to thy protection take,
Nor punish for their hapless mother's fake.
Thus the poor bird, when frighted from her neft, With agonizing love, and grief distress'd, Still fondly hovers o'er the much-lov'd place, 45 Tho' ftrengthlefs, to protect her tender race; In piercing notes the movingly complains, And tells the unattending woods her pains.
And thou, once my foul's fondest, dearest part, Who schem'd my ruin with fuch cruel art,
From human laws no longer seek to find
A pow'r to loofe that knot which god has join'd.
The props of life are rudely pull'd away,
And the frail building falling to decay;
My death fhall give thee thy defir'd release,
And lay me down in everlasting peace.
✦ My husband, who was then fuing for a divorce.
IMPRIMIS
MPRIMIS---My departed fhade I trust
To heav'n---My body to the filent duft;
My name to publick cenfure I fubmit,
To be dispos'd of as the world thinks fit;
My vice and folly let oblivion close,
The world already is o'erftock'd with thofe ;
My wit I give, as mifers give their store,
To those who think they had enough before.
Beftow my patience to compofe the lives
Of flighted virgins and neglected wives;
To modish lovers I refign my truth,
My cool reflexion to unthinking youth;
And fome good-nature give ('tis my defire)
To furly hufbands, as their needs require ;
And first discharge my funeral---and then
To the small poets I bequeath my pen.
Let a fmall fprig (true emblem of my ryhme)
Of blafted laurel on my hearfe recline;
Let fome grave wight, that ftruggles for renown, By chanting dirges through a market-town,
With gentle step precede the folemn train:
A broken flute upon his arm fhall lean.
Six comick poets may the corfe furround,
And all free-holders, if they can be found:
Then follow next the melancholy throng,
As fhrewd inftructors, who themselves are wrong,
The virtuofo, rich in fun-dry'd weeds,
The politican, whom no mortal heeds,
The filent lawyer, chamber'd all the day,
And the ftern foldier that receives no pay.
But stay---the mourners fhould be first our care,
Let the freed prentice lead the miser's heir;
Let the young relict wipe her mournful eye,
And widow'd husbands o'er their garlick cry.
All this let my executors fulfil,
And reft affur'd that this is Mira's will,
Who was, when the thefe legacies defign'd,
In body healthy, and compos'd in mind.
'Twas when the fields had fhed their golden grain,
And burning funs had fear'd the ruffet plain;
No more the rofe nor hyacinth were seen,
Nor yellow cowflip on the tufted green:
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