Poem by the Swedish poetess Sophia Elisabet Brenner (1659-1730)

 

Qwinnokönetz

Oskrymtade Tårar

Fälte öfwer

Den fordom ÄDLE och WÄLBORNE/

Fru MARJA Hiärne/

Som i sine bäste och liufweste år/igenom den timmeliga

Döden blef hädanryckt/ den 11. Decemb. Anno 1690.

                        Döden som sig föresatt

                  Til sit tysta tilhåld föra/

                  Hwad hans faslig långa natt

                  En gång måtte hyglig göra/

                  Sökte nogast hwar han trodde

                  Någon utwald fägring bodde.

                 

                  Länge stod han utan hopp/

                  Om han nånsin skulle finna

                  Så fulkomlig menskio kropp/

                  Som förmåtte öfwerwinna/

                  Alt hwad kulit mörkt och öde

                  Fins i sälskap med de döde.

                 

                  Men omsider lät han se/

                  At hans anslag ikke fela/

                  Ödetz stränga Systrar tre

                  Hjulpe til at särskilt dela/

                  Hwad til werldens lust och fägnat

                  Himlen/deiligt sammanägnat.

                 

                  Sielf naturen/ grämer sig/

                  Som sit skönhetz mönster/ miste/

                  Och dit kön som genom dig/

                  Skönste/ sig behaglig wiste.

The unfeigned tears

of the female sex

Shed over

The late NOBLE and WELL-BORN/

Mistress MARJA Hiärne/

Who in her very prime/was wrested from this life

by temporal Death/ on 11 December Anno 1690.

                        Death who had made up his mind

                  For his silent haunt to capture/

                  What his endless night unkind

                  Might provide with some small rapture/

                  Sought with care where for the telling

                  Some fair beauty might be dwelling.

                 

                  Long he stood with hope forlorn/

                  That he ever would discover

                  Human flesh so pure in form/

                  It could fully triumph over/

                  All that’s dreary dark down-hearted

                  In the realm of those departed.

                 

                  But he finally could see/

                  For his plot success awaiting/

                  When austere Fate’s sisters three

                  Helped him now in extricating/

                  What for earthly joy and pleasure

                  Heaven/had composed at leisure.

                 

                  Even nature/ grieves you too/

                  Mourns her beauty’s template’s passing/

                  As your sex does which through you/

                  Prized its beauty all-surpassing.