And, though defaced, the wonder of the eye; What nature, art, bold fiction, e'er durst frame, Her forming hand gave feature to the name. So strange a concourse ne'er was seen before, But when the peopled ark the whole creation bore. VII. The scene then changed; with bold erected look Our martial king[82] the sight with reverence strook: For, not content to express his outward part, Her hand called out the image of his heart: His warlike mind, his soul devoid of fear, } His high-designing thoughts were figured there, } As when, by magic, ghosts are made appear. } Our phœnix queen[83] was pourtrayed too so bright, Beauty alone could beauty take so right: Her dress, her shape, her matchless grace, Were all observed, as well as heavenly face. With such a peerless majesty she stands, As in that day she took the crown from sacred hands: Before a train of heroines was seen, In beauty foremost, as in rank, the queen. Thus nothing to her genius was denied, But like a ball of fire the further thrown, Still with a greater blaze she shone, And her bright soul broke out on every side. What next she had designed, heaven only knows: To such immoderate growth her conquest rose, That fate alone its progress could oppose. VIII. Now all those charms, that blooming grace, The well-proportioned shape, and beauteous face, Shall never more be seen by mortal eyes; In earth the much-lamented virgin lies. Not wit, nor piety, could fate prevent; Nor was the cruel destiny content To finish all the murder at a blow, To sweep at once her life and beauty too; But, like a hardened felon, took a pride To work more mischievously slow, And plundered first, and then destroyed. O double sacrilege on things divine, To rob the relic, and deface the shrine! But thus Orinda died;[84] Heaven, by the same disease, did both translate; As equal were their souls, so equal was their fate. IX. Meantime, her warlike brother on the seas His waving streamers to the winds displays, And vows for his return, with vain devotion, pays. Ah, generous youth! that wish forbear, The winds too soon will waft thee here: Slack all thy sails, and fear to come; Alas, thou know'st not, thou art wrecked at home! No more shalt thou behold thy sister's face, Thou hast already had her last embrace. But look aloft, and if thou ken'st from far Among the Pleiads a new-kindled star, If any sparkles than the rest more bright, Tis she that shines in that propitious light. X.