ABSTRACT
This Little, Silent, Gloomy Monument, Contains all that was sweet and innocent; The softest pratler that e’er found a Tongue, His Voice was Musick and his Words a Song; 5 Which now each List’ning Angel smiling hears, Such pretty Harmonies compose the Spheres; Wanton as unfledg’d Cupids, ere their Charms Had learn’d the little arts of doing harms; Fair as young Cherubins, as soft and kind, 10 And tho translated could not be refin’d; The Seventh dear pledge the Nuptial Joys had given, Toil’d here on Earth, retir’d to rest in Heaven; Where they the shining Host of Angels fill, Spread their gay wings before the Throne, and smile.
