And perfectly divine, With Truth, and Peace, and Love fhall ever fhine About the fupreme Throne Of him, t'whose happy-making fight alone, When once our Heav'nly-guided Soul shall climb, Then, all this Earthy grofnefs quit, Attir'd with Stars, we fhall for ever fit, Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee,O [Time. Upon the Circumcifion. E flaming Powers,and winged Warriors bright That erft with Musick, and triumphant Song, First heard by happy watchful Shepherds ear, So fweetly fung your Joy the Clouds along Through the soft filence of the lift'ning night; Now mourn, and if sad share with us to bear Your fiery effence can diftil no tear, Burn in your fighs, and borrow Seas wept from our deep forrow: He who with all Heav'ns heraldry whilear Alas, how foon our fin Sore doth begin His Infancy to seize! O more exceeding love or law more just? Were loft in death, 'till he that dwelt above And that great Cov'nant which we still tranfgrefs And the full wrath befide Of vengeful Juftice bore for our excess, And feals obedience first with wounding smart This day; but O ere long Huge pangs and ftrong B Will pierce more near his heart. At a folemn Mufick. Left pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav'ns joy, Verse, Wed Wed your divine founds, and mixt power employ With Saintly shout, and folemn Jubilee, Singing everlastingly; That we on Earth with undiscording voice In first obedience, and their state of good. O may we foon again renew that Song, And keep in tune with Heav'n, 'till God ere long To his celestial confort us unite, To live with him, and sing in endless morn of light. A N EPITAPH T ON THE . Marchioness of Winchefter. HIS rich Marble doth enterr The honour'd Wife of Winchester, A Vicount's daughter, an Earl's heir, Befides what her Virtues fair Added to her noble Birth, More than she could own from Earth. Summers three times eight fave one After fo fhort time of breath, To house with darkness, and with death. Yet Yet had the number of her days Been as compleat as was her praise, Her high birth, and her graces sweet, The Virgin quire for her request But with a scarce well-lighted flame; But whether by mischance or blame |