There doth my soul in holy vison fit

In penfive trance, and anguish, and ecftatick fir.

VII.

Mine eye hath found that fad Sepulchral rock
That was the Casket of Heav'ns richeft ftore,
And here though grief my feeble hands up lock,
Yet on the foftned Quarry would I fcore
My plaining verfe as lively as before;

For fure fo well inftructed are my tears,
That they would fitly fall in order'd Characters,

VIII.

Or fhould I thence hurried on viewlefs wing,
Take up a weeping on the Mountains wild,
The gentle neighbourhood of grove and fpring
Would foon unbofom all their Echoes mild,
And I (for grief is easily beguil'd)

Might think th' infection of my forrows loud, Had got a race of mourners on fome pregnant cloud.

This Subject the Author finding to be above the years he had, when he wrote it, and nothing fatisfy'd with what was begun, left it unfinisbt.

On TIM E.

FLY envious Time, till thou run out thy race,

Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours, Whofe fpeed is but the heavy Plummets pace; And glut thy felf with what thy womb devours,

Which is no more than what is falfe and vain,

And meerly mortal drofs;

So little is our loss,

So little is thy gain.

For when as each thing bad thou haft entomb'd,

And laft of all thy greedy felf confum'd,

Then long Eternity fhall greet our blifs
With an individual kiss;

And Joy fhall overtake us as a flood,

When every thing that is fincerely good,

And perfectly divine,

With Truth, and Peace, and Love fhall ever fhine About the fupreme Throne

Of him, t'whofe happy-making fight alone,

When once our Heav'nly-guided Soul fhall clime,

Then all this Earthy grofnefs quit,

Attir'd with Stars, we fhall for ever fit,

[Time.

Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O

YE

Upon the Circumcifion.

E flaming Powers, and winged Warriours bright, That erft with Mufick, and triumphant Song, First heard by happy watchful Shepherds ear, So fweetly fung your Joy the Clouds along! Through the foft filence of the lift'nnig night; Now mourn, and if fad fhare with us to bear Yeur fiery effence can distil no tear,

Burn in your fighs, and borrow

Seas wept from our deep forrow,

He who with all Heav'ns heraldry whilear

Enter'd the World, now bleeds to give us eafe;
Alas, how foon our fin

Sore doth begin

His Infancy to feafe!

O more exceeding love or law more juft?
Juft law indeed, but more exceeding love!
For we by rightful doom remedilefs

Were loft in death, till he that dwelt above
High thron'd in fecret blifs, for us frail duft
Emptied his glory, ev'n to nakedness;

And that great Cov'nant which we ftill tranfgrefs
Intirely fatisfi'd,

And the full wrath befide

Of vengeful Juftice bore for our excess,

And feals obedience firft with wounding fmart

This day, but O ere long

Huge pangs and strong

Will pierce more near his heart.

BL

At a folemn Mufick.

Left pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav'ns joy, Sphear born harmonious Sifters, Voice and Verfe, Wed your divine founds, and mixt power employ Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce,

And to our high-rais'd phantafie prefent
That undisturbed Song of pure content,

Ay fung before the faphire-colour'dithione oder
To him that fits thereon

With Saintly fhout, and folemn Jubily, sod
Where the bright Seraphim in burning row
Their loud up-lifted Angel trumpets blow,
And the Cherubick hoft in thousand quires

Touch their immortal Harps of golden wires, w
With thofe juft Spirits that wear victorious Palms,
Hymns devote and holy Pfalms duobni for siel?!
Singing everlaftingly ;

That we on Earth with undifcording voice book
May rightly anfwer that melodious noife;
As once we did, till difproportion'd fin

Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsh din.
Broke the fair Mufick that all creatures made
To their great Lord, whose love their motion fway'd
In perfect Diapafon, whilft they food

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 celeftial confort us unite,

To live with him, and fing in endless morn of light,

AN

EPITAPH

T

ON THE

Marchionefs of Winchefter.

HIS rich Marble doth enter Millind boll
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 he could own from Earth.

Summers three times eight fave one vi qu b'abalz She had told, alas too foon, co grynowa pho på w After fo fhort time of breath,

To house with darkness, and with death.

Yet had the number of her days

Been as compleat as her praife,

Nature and fate had had no ftrifelangor of erot

In giving limit to her life.

Her high birth, and her graces fweer,

Quickly found a lover meet;

The Virgin quire for her request
The God that fits at marriage feaft;
He at their invoking came,

But with a scarce-well-lighted flame;