hearing ſome noiſe in her miſtreſs’s room, ran inſtantly into it, and found her fallen off the chair on the floor, ſpeechleſs, and in the agonies of death. She had the immediate aſſiſtance of a phyſician and ſurgeon, but all the means uſed were without ſucceſs, and having given one groan ſhe expired a few minutes before two o’clock, on Sunday morning, February the 20th, 1736–7: Her diſeaſe was judged to be an apoplexy. A pious book was found lying open by her, as alſo ſome looſe papers, on which ſhe had written the following devout ejaculations,
O guide, and council, and protect my ſoul from ſin!
O ſpeak! and let me know thy heav’nly will.
Speak evidently to my liſt’ning ſoul!
O fill my ſoul with love, and light of peace,
And whiſper heav’nly comfort to my ſoul!
O ſpeak cœleſtial ſpirit in the ſtrain
Of love, and heav’nly pleaſure to my ſoul.
In her cabinet were found letters to ſeveral of her friends, which ſhe had ordered to be delivered to the perſons to whom they were directed immediately after her deceaſe.
Mrs. Rowe lived in friendſhip with people of the firſt faſhion and diſtinction in life, by whom ſhe was eſteemed and reſpected. To enumerate them would be needleſs; let it ſuffice to remark, that her life was honoured with the intimacy, and her death lamented with the tears, of the counteſs of Hertford. Many verſes were publiſhed to celebrate her memory, amongſt which a copy written by Mrs. Elizabeth Carter are the beſt.
Thus lived honoured, and died lamented, this excellent poeteſs, whoſe beauty, though not her
