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Through the soft silence of the list'ning night; 5 Now mourn, and if sad share with us to bear Your fiery essence can distil no tear,
Burn in your sighs, and borrow
Seas wept from our deep sorrow:
He who with all heav'n's heraldry whilere
Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us ease; Alas, how soon our sin
Sore doth begin
His infancy to seize !
O more exceeding love, or law more just?
Were lost in death, till he that dwelt above
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.
17 remediless] P. Lost, ix. 919. Sams. Agon. v. 648. 'all remediless.' Warton, Todd.
AT A SOLEMN MUSIC.*
BLEST pair of Sirens, pledges of heav'n's joy,
With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee,
Singing everlastingly :
That we on earth with undiscording voice
* There are three copies of this ode, all in Milton's own hand writing.
6 concent] So the Cant. MS. not 'consent.' Ed. 1645, 'content;' 1673,' concent.' Warton.
12 And Cherubim, sweet winged Squires.' So Cant. MS.
Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsh din
In first obedience, and their state of good.
And keep in tune with Heav'n, till God ere long To his celestial consort us unite,
To live with him, and sing in endless morn of light.
AN EPITAPH ON THE MARCHIONESS OF
THIS rich marble doth inter.
The honour'd wife of Winchester,
A Viscount's daughter, an Earl's heir,
Added to her noble birth,
More than she could own from earth.
After so short time of breath,
To house with darkness, and with death.
Been as complete as was her praise,
In giving limit to her life.
20 nature's chime] Jonson's Epithal. vol. vii. 2.
Her high birth, and her graces sweet
The virgin quire for her request
But with a scarce well-lighted flame;
Spoil'd at once both fruit and tree:
19 He] See Ov. Metam. x. 4.
• Adfuit ille quidem : sed nec solennia verba,
Fax quoque, quam tenuit, lacrymoso stridula fumo, Usque fuit, nullosque invenit motibus ignes.' Jortin. 33 womb] Browne's Brit. Past. b. ii. s. 1. ed. 1616. "Where never plowshare ript his mother's wombe To give an aged seede a living tombe
Pluck'd up by some unheedy swain,
And some flowers, and some bays,
Sent thee from the banks of Came,
Devoted to thy virtuous name;
Whilst thou, bright Saint, high sitt'st in glory,
Next her, much like to thee in story,
That fair Syrian shepherdess,
Who after years of barrenness,
47 Lady] Cymbeline, act iv. sc. 2.
Quiet consummation have,
And renowned be thy grave!'