Lucasta paying her Obsequies to the Chast memory of my dearest Cosin Mrs. Bowes Barne.
I
SEE! what an undisturbed teare
She weepes for her last sleepe ;
But, viewing her straight wak’d a Star,
She weepes that she did weepe.
II
Griefe ne’re before did Tyranize
On th’ Honour of that brow,
And at the wheeles of her brave Eyes
Was Captive led til now.
III
Thus, for a Saints Apostacy
The unimagin’d Woes
And sorrowes of the Hierarchy,
None but an Angel knowes.
IV
Thus for lost soules Recovery,
The Clapping of all Wings,
And Triumphs of this Victory,
None but an Angel sings.
V
So none but She know’s to bemone
This equal Virgins Fate,
None but Lucasta can her Crowne
Of Glory celebrate.
VI
Then dart on me (Chast Light) one ray
By which I may discry
Thy Joy cleare through this cloudy Day
To dresse my sorrow by.
