SINCE 'twere improper such a fact were known; When proofs perhaps too clearly might be shown, So many prayers were said and vigils kept, At length the soul from purgatory crept, So much reduced, and ev'ry way so thin But little more he seemed than bones and skin. A THING so strange filled numbers with surprise, Who scarcely would believe their ears and eyes. The friar passed for saint:--Feronde his fruit; None durst presume to doubt nor to dispute; A double miracle at once appeared The dead's return: the lady's state revered. With treble force Te Deum round was sung; Sterility in marriage oft was rung, And near the convent many offered prayers, In hopes their fervent vows would gain them heirs. THE humble spouse and wife we now shall leave Let none, howe'er, suppose that we conceive, Each husband merits, as our soul, the same, To cure the jealous fears his breast inflame. ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: Perhaps one half our bliss to chance we owe The more of this I think, the less I know Though expectations oft away have flown When husbands some assistance seemed to lack