Yet the bright form creates no loose desires;
At once she gives and purifies our fires,
And passions chaste, as her own soul inspires.
Her soul, heav'n's noblest workmanship design'd,
To bless the ruined age, and succour lost mankind,
To prop abandon'd virtue's sinking cause,
And snatch from vice its undeserv'd applause.

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