UPON THE CIRCUMCISION. YE flaming Powers, and winged Warriors bright, Seas wept from our deep sorrow; He, who with all Heaven's heraldry whilere Sore doth begin His infancy to seise! O more exceeding love, or law more just ? Were lost in death, till he that dwelt above, Emptied his glory, even to nakedness; And that great covenant which we still transgress Entirely satisfied; And the full wrath beside, Of vengeful justice bore for our excess; And seals obedience first, with wounding smart, This day; but O! ere long, Huge pangs and strong Will pierce more near his heart. ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT,1 DYING OF A COUGH. I. O FAIREST flower, no sooner blown but blasted, Summer's chief honour, if thou hadst out-lasted That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss, II. For since grim Aquilo,2 his charioteer, By boisterous rape the Athenian damsel got, Of long-uncoupled bed and childless eld, Which, 'mongst the wanton gods, a foul reproach was held. III. So, mounting up in icy-pearled car, Through middle empire of the freezing air He wander'd long, till thee he spied from far; There ended was his quest, there ceas'd his care : But, all unawares, with his cold-kind embrace IV. Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate ; For so Apollo, with unweeting hand, 'On the Death of a Fair Infant:' this was written when the author was seventeen. The child was a daughter of his sister Phillipps. Boreas, the north wind, ravished Orithyra; see Ovid, Met. vi. Aquilo,' or Young Hyacinth, born on Eurotas' strand, V. Yet can I not persuade me thou art dead, Or that thy corse corrupts in earth's dark womb, VI. Resolve me then, O Soul most surely blest, VII. Wert thou some star which from the ruin'd roof Of shak'd Olympus by mischance didst fall; 1 Or did of late Earth's sons 1 besiege the wall Of sheeny Heaven, and thou, some goddess, fled, Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head? VIII. Or wert thou that just Maid,2 who once before 1 Earth's sons:' the Giants.-2 'Maid: 'Justice. Or wert thou that sweet-smiling youth?1 Or that crown'd matron sage white-robed Truth? Let down in cloudy throne to do the world some good? IX. Or wert thou of the golden-winged host, To scorn the sordid world, and unto heaven aspire ? X. But oh! why didst thou not stay here below To stand 'twixt us and our deserved smart? XI. Then thou, the Mother of so sweet a Child, Her false-imagin❜d loss cease to lament, That, till the world's last end, shall make thy name to live. Youth: Mercy. ON TIME.1 FLY, envious Time, till thou run out thy race; So little is our loss, So little is thy gain! For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd, And last of all thy greedy self consum'd, Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss With an individual2 kiss; And Joy shall overtake us as a flood, When every thing that is sincerely good And perfectly divine, With Truth, and Peace, and Love, shall ever shine About the supreme throne Of Him, to whose happy-making sight alone When once our heavenly-guided soul shall clime; Then, all this earthly grossness quit, Attir'd with stars, we shall for ever sit, Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O Time! 1 On Time:' this was meant to be set on a clock-case.-2 'Individual:' inseparable. |