The brutish gods of Nile as faft,

Ifis and Orus, and the Dog Anubis, haste.

Nor is Ofiris seen

XXIV.

In Memphian Grove, or Green,

Trampling the unfhower'd Grass with lowings

Nor can he be at rest

Within his facred cheft,

[loud:

Naught but profoundest Hell can be his shroud; In vain with timbrel'd Anthems dark

1

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 swadling bands controul the damned crew.

XXVI.

So when the Sun in bed,

Curtain'd with cloudy red,

Pillows

Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,

The flocking fhadows pale

Troop to th' Infernal Jail,

Each fetter'd Ghost flips to his several

And the yellow-skirted Fayes

grave;

Fly after the Night-steeds, leaving their Moon-lov'd

XXVII.

But see the Virgin blest

Hath laid her. Babe to rest,

[maze.

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

Hath fix'd her polish'd Car,

Her fleeping Lord with Handmaid Lamp attend

And all about the Courtly Stable

Bright-harnest Angels fit in order ferviceable.

[ing:

Anno ætatis 17.

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

O

I..

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 quest, there ceast 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 fo 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 waft divine.
VI.

Resolve 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 fuch 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 fheenie 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'ft again to vifit us once more?
Or wert thou that sweet smiling Youth?

Or