Now all those Charmes, 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 hardn'd Fellon, took a pride
To work more Mischievously slow.
And plunder'd first, and then destroy'
O double Sacriledge on things Divine,
To rob the Relique, and deface the Shrine!
But thus _Orinda_ dy'd:
Heav'n, by the same Disease, did both translate,
As equal were their Souls, so equal was their Fate.