There has lately appear'd among us a most Excellent Piece of Poetry, entituled, _An Elegy upon the much Lamented Death of Mrs._ Mehitebell Kitel, _Wife of Mr._ John Kitel _of_ Salem, _Etc._ It may justly be said in its Praise, without Flattery to the Author, that it is the most _Extraordinary_ Piece that was ever wrote in _New-England_. The Language is so soft and Easy, the Expression so moving and pathetick, but above all, the Verse and Numbers so Charming and Natural, that it is almost beyond Comparison. The Muse _disdains[F] Those Links and Chains, Measures and Rules of Vulgar Strains, And o'er the Laws of Harmony a Sovereign Queen she reigns._ [F] Watts. [_Franklin's note._] I find no English Author, Ancient or Modern, whose Elegies may be compar'd with this, in respect to the Elegance of Stile, or Smoothness of Rhime; and for the affecting Part, I will leave your Readers to judge, if ever they read any Lines, that would sooner make them _draw their Breath_ and Sigh, if not shed Tears, than these following. _Come let us mourn, for we have lost a Wife, a Daughter, and a Sister, Who has lately taken Flight, and greatly we have mist her._ In another place, Some little Time _before she yielded up her Breath, She said, I ne'er shall hear one Sermon more on Earth. She kist her Husband_ some little Time _before she expir'd, Then lean'd her Head the Pillow on, just out of Breath and tir'd._ But the Threefold Appellation in the first Line --_a Wife, a Daughter, and a Sister_, must not pass unobserved. That Line in the celebrated _Watts_, GUNSTON, _the Just, the Generous, and the Young,_ is nothing Comparable to it. The latter only mentions three Qualifications of _one_ Person who was deceased, which therefore could raise Grief and Compassion but for _One_. Whereas the former, (_our most excellent Poet_) gives his Reader a Sort of an Idea of the Death of _Three Persons_, viz. --_a Wife, a Daughter, and a Sister,_ which is _Three Times_ as great a Loss as the Death of _One_, and consequently must raise _Three Times_ as much Grief and Compassion in the Reader. I should be very much straitened for Room, if I should attempt to discover even half the Excellencies of this Elegy which are obvious to me. Yet I cannot omit one Observation, which is, that the Author has (to his Honour) invented a new Species of Poetry, which wants a Name, and was never before known. His muse scorns to be confin'd to the old Measures and Limits, or to observe the dull Rules of Criticks; _Nor_ Rapin _gives her Rules to fly, nor_ Purcell _Notes to Sing._ WATTS.