Classic Poem

All those Heroick Pieties,
Whose Zeal to Truth made them its Sacrifice:
Those nobler Scaevola's , whose holy Rage
Did their whole selves in cruel Flames engage,
Who did amidst their Force unmov'd appear,
As if those Fires but lambent were;
Or they had found their Empyreum there:
Might these repeat again their Days beneath,
They'd seen their Fates out-acted by a natural Death,
And each of them to thee resign his Wreath.
In spite of Weakness and harsh Destiny,
To relish Torment, and enjoy a Misery:
So to caress a Doom,
As make its Sufferings Delights become:
So to triumph o'er Sense and thy Disease,
As amongst Pains to revel in soft Ease:
These wonders did thy Vertues worth enhance,
And Sickness to dry Martyrdom advance.