XIH.

Ring out ye cryftal fphears,

Once blefs our human ears,

(If ye have power to touch our fenfes fo) And let your filver chime

Move in melodious time; add the

And let the base of heav'n's deep organ blow,
And with your ninefold harmony

Make up full confort to th' angelic fymphony,

For if fuch holy fong

Enwrap our fancy long,

XIV.

Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold, And fpeckled vanity

Will ficken foon and die,

And leprous fin will melt from earthly mould, And hell itself will pass away,

And leave her dolorous manfion to the peering day, XV.

Yea truth and juftice then

Will down return to men,

Orb'd in a rainbow, and like glories wearing: Mercy will fit between,

Thron'd in celeftial fheen,

With radiant feet the tiffued clouds down fteering,

And heav'n as at fome festival,

Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.
XVI.

But wifeft fate fays no,

This must not yet be fo,

The babe les yet in fmiling infancy,

That on the bitter cross

Muft redeem our lofs;

So both himself and us to glorify:

Yet first to thofe ychain'd in fleep,

The wakeful trump of doom muft thunder thro' the deep.

XVII.

With fuch a horrid clang

As on mount Sinai rang,

While the red fire, and fmouldring clouds out-brake :: The aged earth agaft,

With terrour of that blast,

Shall from the furface of the center shake; When at the world's laft feffion,

The dreadful judge in middle air fhall fpread his throne..

XVIII.

And then at last our blifs

Full and perfect is,

But now begins; for from this happy day Th' old dragon under ground

In ftraiter limits bound,

Not half fo far cafts his ufurped fway,

And wroth to fee his kingdom fail,

Swindges the fcaly horror of his foulded tail.

The oracles are dumb,

XIX.

No voice or hideous hummoners

Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine

Can no more divine,

With hollow fhriek the fleep of Delphios leaving. No nightly trance, or breathed fpell,

Infpires the pale-ey'd pricft from the prophetic cell.

XX.

The lonely mountains o'er,

And the refounding fhore,

A voice of weeping beard, and loud lament;

From haunted fpring, and dale,

Edg'd with poplar pale,

The parting genius is with fighing fent;

With flow'r-inwov'n treffes torn

[mourn..

The nymphs in twilight fhade of tangled thickets

XXI.

In confecrated earth,

And on the holy hearth,

The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint;

In urns, and altars round,

A drear and dying found

Affrights the Flamins at their fervice quaint; And the chill marble feems to sweat,

While each peculiar power foregoes his wonted feat. XXII.

Peor and Baalim

Forfake their temples dim,

With that twice batter'd god of Palestine,

And mooned Ashtaroth,

Heav'n's queen and mother both,

Now fits not girt with tapers holy fhine,

The Libyc Hammon shrinks his horn,

In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thamuz mourn.

XXIII.

And fullen Moloch fled,

Hath left in fhadows dred

His burning idol all of blackest hue;

In vain, with cymbals ring,

They call the grilly king,

In difmal dance about the furnace blue;

The brutish gods of Nile as faft,

Ifis and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste.

Nor is Ofiris feen

XXIV.

In Memphian grove, or green,

Trampling the unfhowr'd grafs with lowings loud: Nor can he be at reft

Within his facred chest,

Naught but profoundest hell can be his fhroud; In vain with timbrel'd anthems dark

The fable-ftoled forcerers bear his worship'd ark.

XXV.

He feels from Judah's land

The dredded 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 fun in bed,

Curtain'd with cloudy red,

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-fkirted Fayes

[maze.

Fly after the night-fteeds, leaving their moon-lov'd

But fee the virgin bleft

XXVII.

Hath laid her babe to rest,

Time is our tedious fong fhould here have ending: Heav'n's youngest teemed ftar

Hath fixt her polish'd car,

Her fleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending: And all about the courtly ftable,

Bright-harneft angels fit in order ferviceable.

Anno ætatis 17.

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

I.

Faircft flower no fooner blown but blafted,
Soft filken primrofe fading timelefly,

Summer's chief honour, if thou hadst out-lafted
Bleak winter's force that made thy blossom dry;
For he being amorous on that lovely dy

That did thy cheek envermeil, thought tó kifs, But kill'd, alas, and then bewail'd his fatal blifs. II.

For fince grim Aquilo his charioteer
By boistrous
rape th' Athenian damfel got,
He thought it toucht his Deity full near,
If likewife he fome fair one wedded not,
Thereby to wipe away th' infamous blot

Of long-uncoupled bed, and childlefs eld,[held. Which 'mongst the wanton gods a foul reproach was

III.

So mounting up in icy-pearled car,

Through middle empire of the freezing air,
He wander'd long, till thee he fpy'd from far,
There ended was his queft, there ceaft his care.
Down he defcended from his fnow-foft chair,

But all unawares with his cold-kind embrace Unhous'd thy virgin foul 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 frand,
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 ly in wormy bed,

Hid from the world in a low delved tomb;
Could heav'n for pity thee fo ftrictly doom?

Oh no! for fomething in thy face did fhine
Above mortality, that fhew'd thou waft divine.