On the young and fair Mrs M. H. her hair being unfortunately burnt by chance in the candle as she was Combing her head at night

Unluckie Traitour! could thy greedy flame
Feed on such fuel, and not devoure the same?
How durst thy dul pale flames so high aspire,
And mix its lazie heat with Vestal fire?
Oh how I grieve this direful chance? to see
These fresh leaves falling from the blooming tree,
And that the spring which was but now begun,
Should thus o'th' sudden into Autumne run!
Ah cruel Atropos! why so soon would you
Thus rudely cut those threads of life in two;
Those neat dishevel'd locks whose every grace
Scorning arts help, set forth a neater face?
With what pale horrour do I wondring see
This sight, and fear what the event will be!
Methinks it now portends some overthrow,
Threatens some great mans ruine, and doth show
Like lightning 'fore the thunder, bidding all
Be arm'd against the stroak: or now I call
To mind fair Helen Troy did so admire,
Me thinks it represents that town on fire.
Had this but Lillie seen he would have said
It was some blazing Comet; and that head
Which was thus crisped o'r with purest raies
Was all a heav'nly Meteor, that did blaze
Her Virtues forth to the worlds open eie
As Emblem of her rare divinitie.
Or had mistook thee in this borrow'd light
For brightest Phoebe Mistresse, of the night,
By those bright Star-like tapours of thine eies.
Oh may another lovely Phoenix rise
From these sweet ashes, whose sad fun'ral pile
With fragrant odours thus perfumes our Isle!
But thou curst light that wroughtst this Tragedie,
In thy own flames maist thou a martyr die.