The brutish gods of Nile as fast,

Ifis and Orus, and the Dog Anubis, hafte.

XXIV.

Nor is Ófiris seen

In Memphian Grove, or Green,

Trampling the unfhower'd Grafs with lowings [loud:

Nor can he be at rest

Within his facred chest,

Naught but profoundest Hell can be his shroud;

In vain with timbrel'd Anthems dark

The fable-ftoled Sorcerers bear his worship'd Ark. XXV.

He feels from Juda's Land

The dreaded Infant's hand,

The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn; Nor all the Gods befide,

Longer dare abide,

Not Typhon huge ending in fnaky twine: Our Babe, to fhew his Godhead true,

Can in his fwadling bands controul the damned crew.

XXVI.

So when the Sun in bed,

Curtain'd with cloudy red,

Pillows

T

Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,

The flocking fhadows pale
Troop to th' Infernal Jail,

Each fetter'd Ghoft flips to his feveral grave;

And the yellow-skirted Fayes

Fly after the Night-steeds, leaving their Moon-lov'd
XXVII.
[maze.

But see the Virgin blest

Hath laid her. Babe to rest,

Time is our tedious Song fhould here have ending: Heav'n's youngest teemed Star

Hath fix'd her polifh'd Car,

[ing:

Her fleeping Lord with Handmaid Lamp attend-
And all about the Courtly Stable
Bright-harnest Angels fit in order serviceable.

Anno ætatis 17.

On the Death of a fair Infant, a Nephew of his, dying of a Cough.

I. ..

O

Fairest flower no fooner blown but blafted, Soft filken Primrose fading timelesly, Summer's chief Honour, if thou hadft out-lafted Bleak winter's force that made thy blossom drie; For he being amorous on that lovely die

That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss, But kill'd, alas, and then bewail'd his fatal blifs. II. For fince grim Aquilo his charioteer By boisterous rape th' Athenian damfel got, He thought it toucht his Deity full near, If likewise he fome fair one wedded not, Thereby to wipe away th' infamous blot

Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld, Which 'mongst the wanton Gods a foul reproach was

[held.

III. So

III.

So mounting up in ycie-pearled car,
Through middle empire of the freezing air,
He wander'd long, 'till thee he spy'd from far,
There ended was his queft, there ceaft his care.
Down he defcended from his Snow-foft chair,

But all unwares with his cold-kind embrace Unhous'd thy Virgin Soul from her fair biding place. IV.

;

Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate
For fo Apollo, with unweeting hand,
Whilom did flay his dearly-loved mate,
Young Hyacinth born on Eurota's strand,
Young Hyacinth the pride of Spartan land;

But then transform'd him to a purple flower:
Alack that so to change thee Winter had no power.
V.
Yet can I not perfuade me thou art dead,
Or that thy corfe corrupts in earth's dark womb,
Or that thy beauties lie in wormie bed,

Hid from the World in a low delved tomb;
Could Heav'n for pity thee so strictly doom?

Oh no! for fomething in thy face did shine Above mortality, that fhew'd thou wast divine. VI. Refolve me then, oh Soul most purely bleft, (If fo it be that thou these plaints dost hear) Tell me bright Spirit where-e'er thou hoverest, Whether above that high first-moving Sphere, Or in th' Elysian fields (if such there were)

O fay me true, if thou wert mortal wight,
And why from us fo quickly thou didst take thy flight.
VII.

Wert thou fome Star which from the ruin'd roof
Of fhak'd Olympus by mischance didst fall;
Which careful Jove in Nature's true behoof
Took up, and in fit place did reinstal?
Or did of late earth's Sons befiege the wall

Of sheenie Heav'n, and thou fome goddess fled, Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head? VIII.

Or wert thou that just Maid who once before
Forfook the hated earth, O tell me footh,
And cam'st again to visit us once more?
Or wert thou that fweet fmiling Youth?

Or