Classic Poem

Monopolizing HEE's, pretend no more
Of Wit and Worth , to Hoard up all the store.
The Females too grow Wise & Good & Great;
Some such in happy Salem find a Seat.
Beware, my Sex , lest Females Win the Day,
And Shame Us with reviv'd Hybristica .
Plutarch , Return to Life, and Write agen,
Of Womens Virtues , to Upbraid the Men.

When Vertuous Women are in Books Enroll'd,
Let our bright MARY's Name and Fate be told.
Of Glorious Women , O Great Hottinger ,
In thy brave Catalogue , make Room for her .
America thanks Europe , and does boast
Her sending such a Gem unto our Coast.

Come hither, You that the fair Sex reproach;
Confuted now, no more your Scandals broach.
ONE rescues here the Fame of all the Sex;
And will your Contradicted Envy Vex.
With no Sett-Offs , but Truth in every Line ,
We do Delineate our Heroine .
Grammar makes TRUTH, a SHEE; we shall with care
Nothing but very Truth of Her declare.

TRUTH, Thou shalt be my Muse , and first relate
How MARY Shone first in her Virgin-State .
To Learn or Do some Good thing every Day
Was the Prime Study of this Agatha .
Ambitious Early to Enjoy a Mind ,
From Earth, and Foggy Ignorance refin'd .
A Bible , not Romance , her Eyes before,
Then daily help'd her Heaven to implore.
Tutors one never more obedient saw;
Their Word , their very Look , She made her Law .
To fill her Soul with high Attainments, Shee
Gladly Out-Labour'd the Industrious Bee .
No Hind Let Loose; but Guarded well, and grave;
Most Goodly Words , yet our Eulalia gave.
Not Confident; Like Damsels which their Chin .
Contrive more than their Tongue , to Bridle in.
Not of the Gadding Tribe; nor could She bear,
So Chast! the least Indecent Thing to hear.
With still a Silent Blush , her Rising Blood
Spoke in her Face, Care to be very Good .
Pale with the Fear of doing ill, and Red
With Modesty, was all the Paint She had.
Go on, dear TRUTH, charge once Truth-Speaking Fame
To Tell whose Wife , & What She then became.
BROWN to the Lottery of Worth drew near;
He drew a Prize , a matchless Prize , in Her .
Not Wealth , but Solid Worth , in her he sees;
He see's Rich Vertues , and is charm'd with these.

O Parents , Pity the fond Sons of Men,
And your fair Daughters well adorn for them.
With Useful Knowledge fraight their Tender Souls;
Why should they Empty be, but Noisy Fools?
Teach them the Skill an House to Guide & Feed ,
And with Kind Mates and Easy Life to Lead.
Goodness to them, and all Good Humour Show;
The Pious Parents Shap'd their MARY so.
The Wretch that is alone to Mammon Wed,
May chance to find a Satan in the Bed.
She's Rich ! That's all they say on her behalf:
Her Gold you Worship, and a Golden Calf .
Wink hard and Wed; a Bag and Baggage too,
In Markets often do together go.
Who by meer Hundreds and by Thousands choose,
A Thousand tis to One , themselves they loose.
The Rigging of the Ship; the Tear & Wear,
Will soon cost more than all She brought with her.
Why should her Dress Ensnare? Tis dearly bought:
Poor Woodcocks that are in a Ribbon caught.
Or why her Dance bewitch? Upon an head
Not like John Baptists , her Light Feet shall tread.

BROWN Steer'd not so; He ask'd, A Vertuous Wife ,
The Soul , and Salt , and Joy of Humane Life.
A Vertuous Wife , Heav'n did on BROWN bestow;
So Heav'n Rewards its Favourites below.
A Wife indeed! Which now so few attain,
Some are so; and thou MARY in the Van .
Happy the Women were, and Happy too
The Husbands , if the Sex were more like YOU.
Oh! Would they Carriage from your Conduct learn;
Be Neat; but make their Soul , their main concern.
Her BROWN, how did She Love, & please & prize;
And Saw none but that Covering of her Eyes!
The Persian Law, She would not Alter too,
That Wives give to their Husbands Honour due.
Blame not the Rabbi's now for what they Write,
How Heav'n did Adam and Eve , at first Unite.
Two Bodies then if Heav'n in One did frame,
Two Souls here met in One united Flame.
Sir, Tho' you Cloath'd her as you Lov'd her, well,
She would of You , more than her Cloathing tell.
So Philo's Wife, with mean Array Content,
Her Husbands Worth , call'd Her best Ornament .
Had you been Lame , She'd been the Herpine , who
In Arms a Thousand Miles had carried You.
Or had it been your Hap to first Expire,
She had felt more than Portia's Coals of Fire.
When did She ever once your Patience try,
Or make an Head-Ake in the Family !
Yes, Once at Last; She did your Love offend;
T'was by her Death; but never, Sir, till then !
Martyr of Love to You, Lov'd Rachel Dyed;
And what must now dear BENJAMIN betide?
How many means black Death at once to kill?
She felt Two Death's , and YOU a Thousand feel.
BROWN and his Bride with Vertuous Love display
How Christ does Love , and how his Church obey .
Why did'st thou Father Jerom , say, that Strife
Must be Essential to the Married Life?
Here was a pair, the only Strife of whom
Was who should in their Goodness overcome.

Oh come, Tertullian; Teach me to declare,
The Happiness of such an Happy Pair !
Ye Popish Dogs , At Marriage bark no more;
Unclean so Devils burn , and Single Roar.
Marriage , That Honourable Chastity ,
Let none but Filthy Antichrist decry.

But tell, fair TRUTH; for thou hast more to tell:
What MARY was; Not, where's a Parallel!
Her Beauty let Agrippa's Pen define:
Call it, A Lovely Ray of Light Divine;
A Soul of Heav'nly Lustre Shining thro'
An Earthly Lanthorn of a Glorious hue.
A Body of a Frame so fine and Rare ,

When was there Matter seen to Thought so near?
(So Fair; but not Enslav'd unto the Smoke
Pip'd by the Dames under the Indian Yoke! )
But NOYES, except Thou do a Pencil find,
None can Paint out the Beauty of her Mind .
Unbodied Vertue She; The Spangled Sphere
Look'd for her, and such Lustre must be there .
A Patch'd Face could not suit so sound an Heart ,
Spotts to the Skin clear Souls do not impart.
Sincere; She Paint abhorr'd; a Jezabel
May Paint , but Meat unto the Doggs she fell.
Prudence the Mother of all Vertues here,
Before She was a Mother came to Her.
The Harmless Dove nothing of Serpent had ,
But Prudence for to serve and help her Head .
By the Polestar of Piety She Steer'd;
And no mishaps but those of Sin She fear'd.
When JESUS call'd, His Mary came to Him,
Clasping the Feet that came her to Redeem.
With Tears to Channels of Repentance turn'd,
Faults known to none but Heav'n & Her , She mourn'd.
And yet these Lovely Pearls, her Tears, She thought
Must to her Saviours Cleansing Blood be brought.
The Worlds base Idols, her brave Soul despis'd
And what the World Adores She Sacrific'd .
CHRIST ask'd the Heart of Her for whom He dy'd;
Great LORD, I'm thine! Her conquer'd Heart reply'd.
His Righteousness alone She chose for that
Wherein to Stand before His Judgment Seat:
To that Kind Shepherd , gladly She Resign'd
To Lead and Rule by Grace her Lamb-like Mind.
Her Hands to God oft Lift in fervent Prayer ,
(Hands in Redeeming Blood well Whit'ned ) were.
When the rare Pastors had their Sermons done ,
Her Doing was, the Repetition .
Banquets not in the Hall , but at the Door
She still preferr'd, there for to feed the Poor .
Her old Cloaths , on the Poor , a Neater Shew
She judg'd, they made than on her Self her New .

Ye Writers on the Decalogue , Stand by;
Durham and all the rest, shall Needless ly:
The Life we saw our pious MARY Live,
A Commentary to the Life , did give.
But Oh! the Fourth ! — Tell, How She Sabbatiz'd;
And how the Rapt'rous Day She spent and priz'd.
The Day of God , which all our other Dayes
As worth Ten Thousand of them all , do praise;
The Day which all Enlightned minds confess,
The Day-break of Eternal Blessedness;
The Day; Incomparable Day; so fair
None among all Times flying Children are:
The Map of Heaven , the Light of Earth , or which
God from Deep Treasures does our Souls Enrich.

She Lov'd the Day, She Lov'd the LORD, of whom
The Day proclaim'd his Rising from the Tomb .
MARY this Day knew what it was to have
Joy in a JESUS Rising from the Grave.
Bright Day , Thou Soul of Piety; we see
All True Religion Lives or Dyes with thee.
My Heroine saw this, and kept the Day;
This was, or None, She saw, to Heav'n the way.
Vain Things Lay by; but with a Zealous Heart,
Now MARY chose and sought the Better part .
So on THIS DAY at last She must Expire,
And to a Sacred Rest with CHRIST Retire.
The Seventh and the Sacred Day , the Dove
Takes for her Flight unto the Ark above.

O Chrysostom , Revoke thy gross Abuse;
How could a Golden Mouth such Dross produce?
A WOMAN, as True Friendships Enemy,
True Evil but Good painted , to decry?
What Mother had the Father op'ning thus?
Or was he but a Terrae Filius ?

An Admirable MARY does refute
The Clamour, and strike Ev'ry Satyr mute.
But stay; Bold Quill; Touch not that String too Long
Lest Length may do at Length her Vertue wrong.
Who knew her need no Verse of mine; for they
Know more than my Imperfect Verse can say.
Who knew her not, will vainly think that none
Can say beyond that which by me was known.
My Pen so Silenc'd will by Silence speak
It self to Celebrate her Praise too weak.
Tell only What's her Fate, or, That She's Dead;
Twill be impossible then to proceed.
A BIRTH of One , to Both a Death becomes;
A Breathless Mother the Dead Child Entomb's.
Sad Fate! But for another BIRTH we wait:
She and her Infant , will be Twins in That.
With Tears that cannot stop, till then we must
Behold a Diamond Lying in the Dust.