AN

                ELEGY

            On the BURNING of

    The Church Memorial.

NO ! Sacred Pages, never more repine,
Tho' Sacrific'd to Faction and Deſign.
Thy Votaries by this more ſtrong become,
Gath'ring freſh Vigour from your Martyrdom.
Arabian Spices ſo, diſſolv'd by Heat,
Scatter Perfumes around, Divinely Sweet ;
So thy Profeſſors fell in Wicked Days,
Their Glorious Lives concluding with a Blaze.
By ſuch a Death would I obtain a Name,
And make my Zeal outſhine my Fun'ral Flame.
So from the World the Cæſars did Retire,
Aſcending to the Gods from Piles of Fire.
So Ptolomy's Fam'd Library did Shine
In Unlearn'd Flames ; Noloſs compar'd to Thine.
But we can you, Immortal Leaves, Reſtore
To former Life ; Nor the hard Fate Deplore.
Sure from your Smoak ſome Miracle muſt riſe,
As when an Angel mounted to the Skies
And Sanctify'd the Flame in Manoah's Sacrifice :
Spight of thy Adverſe Chance, thou ſhalt be Read,
Nor Dye, till Principle and Truth be Dead.
Thou to thy Beauty ſhalt again return,
Smile, like a Cherub, like a Seraph, Burn.
But Oh ! Expect what the Three Children bore,
A Fire that's Seven times Hotter than before,
And all Fanatick Rage can Practice more.
Yet thou ſhalt feel no Harm, no Fear diſcloſe,
But like the Furnace, Flaſh upon thy Foes.

                        MDCCV.