As precious gums are not for lasting fire, They but perfume the temple, and expire: So was she soon exhaled, and vanish'd hence; A short sweet odour, of a vast expense. She vanish'd, we can scarcely say she died; For but a now did heaven and earth divide: She pass'd serenely with a single breath; This moment perfect health, the next was death: One sigh did her eternal bliss assure; So little penance needs, when souls are almost pure. 310 As gentle dreams our waking thoughts pursue; Or, one dream pass'd, we slide into a new; So close they follow, such wild order keep, We think ourselves awake, and are asleep: So softly death succeeded life in her, She did but dream of heaven, and she was there. No pains she suffer'd, nor expired with noise; Her soul was whisper'd out with God's still voice; As an old friend is beckon'd to a feast, And treated like a long-familiar guest. 320 He took her as He found, but found her so, As one in hourly readiness to go: Even on that day, in all her trim prepared; As early notice she from heaven had heard, And some descending courier from above Had given her timely warning to remove; Or counsell'd her to dress the nuptial room, For on that night the Bridegroom was to come. He kept His hour, and found her where she lay Clothed all in white, the livery of the day. 330 Scarce had she sinn'd in thought, or word, or act; Unless omissions were to pass for fact: That hardly death a consequence could draw, To make her liable to nature's law: And, that she died, we only have to show The mortal part of her she left below: The rest, so smooth, so suddenly she went, Look'd like translation through the firmament; Or, like the fiery car, on the third errand[37] sent. O happy soul! if thou canst view from high, 340 Where thou art all intelligence, all eye; If, looking up to God, or down to us, Thou find'st that any way be pervious, Survey the ruins of thy house, and see Thy widow'd, and thy orphan family: Look on thy tender pledges left behind; And, if thou canst a vacant minute find From heavenly joys, that interval afford To thy sad children, and thy mourning lord. See how they grieve, mistaken in their love, 350 And shed a beam of comfort from above; Give them, as much as mortal eyes can bear, A transient view of thy full glories there; That they with moderate sorrow may sustain And mollify their losses in thy gain: Or else divide the grief; for such thou wert, That should not all relations bear a part, It were enough to break a single heart.