Poems by the most deservedly admired Mrs. Katherine Philips, the matchless Orinda ; to which is added Monsieur Corneille's Pompey & Horace, tragedies ; with several other translations out of French.

In Memory of Mrs. E. H.

AS some choice Plant cherish'd by Sun and Air, And ready to requite the Gard'ner's care, Blossoms and flourishes, but then we find Is made the Triumph of some ruder Wind: So thy untimely Grave did both entomb Thy Sweetness now, and wonders yet to come.

Hung full of hopes thou sell'st a lovely prize, Just as thou didst attract all Hearts and Eyes. Thus we might apprehend, for had thy years Been lengthen'd to have paid those vast arrears The World expected, we should then conclude, The Age of Miracles had been renew'd. For thou already hast with ease found out What others study with such pains and doubt; That frame of Soul which is content alone, And needs no Entertainment but its own. Thy even Mind, which made thee good and great, Was to thee both a shelter and retreat. Of all the Tumults which this World do fill Thou wert an unconcern'd Spectatour still: And, were thy duty punctually supply'd, Indifferent to all the World beside. Thou wert made up within resolv'd and fix'd, And wouldst not with a base Allay be mix'd; Above the World, couldst equally despise Both its Temptations and its Injuries; Couldst summe up all, and find not worth desire Those glittering Trifles which the most admire; But with a nobler aim, and higher born, Look down on Greatness with contempt and scorn. Thou hadst no Arts that others this might see, Nor lov'dst a Trumpet to thy Piety: But silent and retir'd, calm and serene, Stol'st to thy blessed Haven hardly seen. It were vain to describe thee then, but now Thy vast accession harder is to know; How full of light, and satisfi'd thou art, So early from this treach'rous World to part; How pleas'd thou art reflexions now to make, And find thou didst not things below mistake; In how abstracted converse thou dost live, How much thy Knowledge is intuitive; How great and bright a glory is enjoy'd With Angels, and in Mysteries employ'd.

'Tis sin then to lament thy Fate, but we Should help thee to a new Eternity; And by successive Imitation strive, Till Time shall die, to keep thee still alive; And (by thy great Example furnish'd) be More apt to live then write thy Elogy.