Page:A poem humbly dedicated to the great patern of piety and virtue Catherine Queen Dowager - on the death of her dear lord and husband King Charles II (IA poemhumblydedica00behn).pdf/4

 And almost, with a high imperious force, Bore down the Banks of Life in its too rapid course. Your Languishments and Sorrows, who repeats, Or by his own, on Yours a Value sets, Compares deep Seas to wand'ring Rivolets; Who though a while in their own Meads they stray, Lose their young streams at last in the unbounded Sea. Shou'd all the Nations tenderest griefs combine, And all our Pangs in one vast body joyn, They cou'd not sigh with Agonies like Thine. That You survive, is Heav'ns peculiar care, To charm our Grief, and heal our wild Despair; While we to Charles's Sacred Relict bow, Half the great Monarch we Adore in You: The rest, our Natural Devotions grant; We Bless the Queen, and we Invoke the Saint: Nor fades your Light with Englands Worship'd Sun, Your Joys were set, but still Your Glory shon: And with a Luster that shall still increase, When worlds shall be no more, and Natures self shall cease; For never in one mortal Frame did joyn A Fortitude and Vertue more Divine: Witness the Steady Graces of your Soul When charg'd by Perjuries so black and foul, As did all Laws, both Humane and Divine controul. When Heaven (to make the Heroin understood, And Hell it self permitted loose abroad,) Gave you the Patience of a Suffering God. So our Blest Saviour his Reproaches bore, When Piercing Thorns His Sacred Temples wore, And stripes compell'd the Rich redeeming Gore. Your pretious Life alone, the Fiends disdain'd, To Murder home, your Vertue they prophan'd;