The Virginia Gazette

On the Death of Miss M. Thacker.

Nondum annos quatuordecim impleverat, & jam illi ani-
Prudentia, matronalis gravitas erat; & tamen ua-
Virgas puellaris cum virginali vere candor.
Phures, gravioresque, nobis causas relinqueret dei-
Derij & doloris!
Plin. Epit.

Quis desiderio sit pudor, aut modus
Tam cari capitis?
Horat. Od.

Shall virtuous Molly unlamented die?
And none among the sacred Order try
So fair a Soul, translated hence, to mourn,
And with a friendly Lay her Hearse adorn?
Commend her living Piety, and Truth,
And Christian Virtues, rare in modern Youth!
Will none? -- Tho' ev'ry other Muse decline,
The too superior Task, yet shall not mine:
Tho' no assisting Aid the Muses bring.
Her Worth inspires, and I'll attempt to sing.
Forgive, fair Shade, if I your Merits wrong;
My Intent is honest, tho' but poor my Song.
But in what Strains shall I my Grief express?
Can deepest Grief or hers be call'd Excess?
Come all, who knew the charming Virgin, join
Your pious Moan, your friendly Tears, with mine:
Lament her, form'd to act each glorious Part
Of Life, exempt from Vanity, from Art;
Bewail a Maid, of all her Sex the best,
Esteem'd by all, of ev'ry Charm possest;
Of easy Carriage, in her Temper sweet,
Chaste as the new-bloom'd Rose, and simply neat;
One, who in Elegance of Breeding shin'd,
And ev'ry other Female Grace refin'd;
Renown'd for Piety, for all that's good,
Who, constant, in the Paths of Virtue trod;
Devoid of Envy, Haughtiness, and Pride,
And a whole Tribe of Female Faults beside:
Bewail a Maid, endow'd with heav'nly Charms,
By Death irrevocably ravish'd from our Arms!
Sure all the Virtues of her Sex conspir'd,
To make her lov'd by all, by all admir'd!
Severely modest, unaffected, plain,
O Soul so pure, no flatt'ring Vice cou'd stain.
Blest with an open, and good-natur'd Mind,
The Virgin Smile, and Matron Graveness join'd.
Fair Virtue she, with Steadiness, pursu'd,
All youthful Passions to its Laws subdu'd.
Intent on heav'nly Joys, in Bloom of Age,
She made a noble Exit off the Stage.
Alas! beneath the Horrors of the Grave.
Are hid the greatest Charms, that Virtue gave!
That graceful Form must now no more be known,
Wish of our Sex, and Envy of her own!
In that transcendent Maid for ever ends
The best of Children, Sisters, and of Friends!
Oh! Molly, fairest of the fairer Kind,
Why, to imprint thy Image on our Mind,
Why wert thou born, but just to give us Pain,
And seek, too soon, thy native Heav'n again!

Thus in a Dream, before the Hungry's Eyes,
Rich Feasts appear ---- he wakes--- the Vision flies!
Some Guardian Angel, teach me from on high,
To lead my Life like her, like her to die:
To emulate the glorious Steps she trod,
All Humane, Gentle, Gen'rous, Great, and Good!
Like her, the dreadful Monarch, Death, to charm,
The stinging Anguish of each Pain disarm;
Rise tow'ring, as the Soul, a spotless Soul,
Who grasp'd at rapt'rous Joys beyond the Pole!
What else cou'd thus have fortified her Mind;
To bear, so patient, to Heav'n resign'd;
The mighty Load that all her Limbs opprest,
And struggling Coughs that shook her lab'ring Breast?
Else cou'd she, calm, Death's near Approach sustain,
And stand unmov'd by agonizing Pain!
Or, when all round her weeping Friends appear,
View them serenely, and without a Tear!
Obey relentless Death's untimely Call,
And, cheerful, as a Christian ought, leave all
Her Friends, Relations, and the World, behind,
For Joys, of an incorruptible Kind?

Your Loss, her Parents, Friends, no more bemoan.
But imitate her Virtues, since she's gone!
And you, afflicted Virgin, weep no more,
Your Molly vanish'd to the silent Shore;
But let your Grief, your Sorrows, have an End,
Rob'd of a sweet Companion, easy Friend,
A tender Sister, Enemy to Strife,
And one, who charm'd away the Cares of Life!
She's blest in Realms, where no more Pains we prove,
Where all is Joy, Peace, Harmony, and Love!