so clear,
    The bottom did the top appear: 
    Of deeper, too, and ampler floods,
    Which, as in mirrors, show’d the woods;
    Of lofty trees, with sacred shades,
    And perspectives of pleasant glades,
    Where nymphs of brightest form appear,
    And shaggy satyrs standing near,
    Which them at once admire and fear. 
    The ruins, too, of some majestic piece,
    Boasting the power of ancient Rome or Greece,
    Whose statues, friezes, columns broken lie,
    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 the sight with reverence strook: 
  For not content to express his outward part,
  Her hand call’d 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 phoenix queen was portray’d 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 design’d 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-proportion’d 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 harden’d felon, took a pride
        To work more mischievously slow,
        And plunder’d first, and then destroy’d. 
  Oh, double sacrilege on things divine,
  To rob the relic, and deface the shrine!

        But thus Orinda[35] died: 
    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 wind displays,
  And vows for his return, with vain devotion, pays. 
      Ah, generous youth! that wish forbear,
      The winds too