soon will waft thee here: 
    Slack all thy sails, and fear to come,
  Alas, thou know’st not thou art wreck’d 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.

    When in mid-air the golden trump shall sound,
      To raise the nations under ground: 
      When in the Valley of Jehoshaphat,
  The judging God shall close the book of fate: 
      And there the last assizes keep,
      For those who wake, and those who sleep;
      When rattling bones together fly,
      From the four corners of the sky;
  When sinews o’er the skeletons are spread,
  Those clothed with flesh, and life inspires the dead;

  The sacred poets first shall hear the sound,
  And foremost from the tomb shall bound,
  For they are cover’d with the lightest ground;
  And straight, with inborn vigour, on the wing,
  Like mounting larks, to the new morning sing. 
  There thou, sweet saint, before the quire shalt go,
  As harbinger of heaven, the way to show,
  The way which thou so well hast learn’d below.

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES: 

[Footnote 34:  ‘Killigrew:’  a lady of remarkable promise alike in painting and poetry; maid of honour to the Duchess of York; died at the age of 25, in 1685; her father an eminent clergyman, her brother a wit.]

[Footnote 35:  ‘Orinda:’  Mrs Catherine Philips, author of a book of poems, died, like Mrs Killigrew, of the small-pox, in 1664, being only thirty-two years of age.]

* * * * *

III.

UPON THE DEATH OF

THE EARL OF DUNDEE.[36]

Oh, last and best of Scots! who didst maintain
Thy country’s freedom from a foreign reign;
New people fill the land now thou art gone,
New gods the temples, and new kings the throne. 
Scotland and thee did each in other live;
Nor wouldst thou her, nor could she thee survive. 
Farewell! who dying didst support the state,
And couldst not fall but with thy country’s fate.

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES: 

[Footnote 36:  This is translated from a Latin elegy by Dr Pitcairn.]

* * * * *

IV.

ELEONORA: 

A PANEGYRICAL POEM, DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF THE LATE COUNTESS OF ABINGDON.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF ABINGDON, &c.