He married her in the year 1710, and Mrs. Rowe’s exalted merit, and amiable qualities, could not fail to inspire the most generous and lading passion.  Mr. Rowe knew how to value that treasure of wit, softness and virtue, with which heaven had blessed him; and made it his study to repay the felicity with which she crowned his life.  The esteem and tenderness he had for her is inexpressible, and possession seems never to have abated the fondness and admiration of the lover; a circumstance which seldom happens, but to those who are capable of enjoying mental intercourse, and have a relish for the ideal transports, as well as those of a less elevated nature.  It was some considerable time after his marriage, that he wrote to her a very tender Ode, under the name of Delia, full of the warmed sentiments of connubial friendship and affection.  The following lines in it may appear remarkable, as it pleased Heaven to dispose events, in a manner so agreeable to the wishes expressed in them,

  ——­So long may thy inspiring page,
  And bright example bless the rising age;
  Long in thy charming prison mayst thou stay,
  Late, very late, ascend the well-known way,
    And add new glories to the realms of day! 
  At least Heav’n will not sure, this prayer deny! 
    Short be my life’s uncertain date,
  And earlier long than thine, the destin’d hour of fate! 
    When e’er it comes, may’st thou be by,
  Support my sinking frame, and teach me how to die;
    Banish desponding nature’s gloom,
    Make me to hope a gentle doom,
    And fix me all on joys to come. 
  With swimming eyes I’ll gaze upon thy charms,
  And clasp thee dying in my fainting arms;
    Then gently leaning on thy breast;
    Sink in soft slumbers to eternal rest. 
  The ghastly form shall have a pleasing air,
  And all things smile, while Heav’n and thou art there.

This part of the Ode which we have quoted, contains the most tender breathings of affection, and has as much delicacy and softness in it, as we remember ever to have seen in poetry.  As Mr. Rowe had not a robust constitution, so an intense application to study, beyond what the delicacy of his frame could bear, might contribute to that ill state of health which allayed the happiness of his married life, during the greater part of it.  In the latter end of the year 1714, his weakness increased, and he seemed to labour under all the symptoms of a consumption; which distemper, after it had confined him some months, put a period to his most valuable life, at Hampstead, in 1715, when he was but in the 28th year of his age.  The exquisite grief and affliction, which his amiable wife felt for the loss of so excellent a husband, is not to be expressed.

She wrote a beautiful Elegy on his death, and continued to the last moments of her life, to express the highest veneration and affection for his memory, and a particular regard and esteem for his relations.  This Elegy of Mrs. Rowe, on the death of her much lamented husband, we shall here insert.