« السابقةمتابعة »
Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us ease;
Alas, how foon our fin
Sore doth begin
His infancy to feife!
O more exceeding love or law more just ?
Jul 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 covenant which we ftill tranfgrefs
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.
Wed your divine founds, and mix'd pow'r employ
Dead things with inbreath'd fenfe able to pierce,
And to our high-raised phantasy present
That undisturbed song of pure concent,
Ay fung before the faphir'd-color'd throne
To him that fits thereon
With faintly fhout and folemn jubilee,
Where the bright Seraphim in burning row
Their loud up-lifted angel-trumpets blow,
At a SOLEMN MUSIC.
LEST pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav'n's joy,
And the cherubic host in thousand quires
Touch their immortal harps of golden wires,
With thofe juft Spirits that wear victorious palms,
Hymns devout and holy psalms
That we on earth with undifcording voice
May rightly answer that melodious noife;
As once we did, till difproportion'd fin
Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsh din
Broke the fair mufic that all creature's made
To their great Lord, whofe love their motion fway'd
In perfect diapafon, while they flood
In first obedience, and their state of good.
O may we foon again renew that fong,
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.
HIS rich marble doth inter
The honor'd Wife of Winchester,
A Viscount's daughter, an Earl's heir,
Befides what her virtues fair
Added to her noble birth,
More than fhe could own from earth,
An EPITAPH on the MARCHIONESS of WINCHESTER *.
*This Lady was Jane, daughter of Thomas Lord Vifc. Savage, of Rock-Savage, Cheshire, who by marriage became the heir of Lord Darcy Earl of Rivers; and was the wife of John Marquis of Winchester, and the mother of Charles first Duke of Bolton. She died in childbed of a fecond fon in the 23d year of her age; and Milton made thefe verfes at Cambridge, as appears by the fequel.
Summers three times eight fave one
She had told; alas too foon,
After fo fhort time of breath,
To houfe with darkness, and with death.
Yet had the number of her days
Been as complete as was her praise,
Nature and fate had had no ftrife
In giving limit to her life.
Her high birth, and her graces sweet
Quickly found a lover meet;
The virgin quire for her requeft
The God that fits at marriage feast ;
He at their invoking came
But with a scarce well lighted flame;
And in his garland as he flood,
Yet might difcern a cypress bud.
Once had the early matrons run
To greet her of a lovely fon,
And now with fecond hope the goes,
And calls Lucinda to her throws;
But whether by mifchance or blame
Atropos for Lucina came ;
And with remorseless cruelty
Spoil'd at once both fruit and tree:
The hapless babe before his birth
Had burial yet not laid in earth,
And the languish'd mother's womb
Was not long a living tomb..
So have I feen fome tender flip,
Sav'd with care from winter's nip,
The pride of her carnation train
Pluck'd up by fome unheedy fwain,
a cyprefs bud.] An emblem of a funeral.
28. Atropos for Lucina came;] One of the Fates, inftead of the Goddefs, who brings the birth to light.
Who only thought to crop the flow'r
New fhot up from vernal show'r;
But the fair bloffom hangs the head
Side-ways, as on a dying-bed,
Ana thofe pearls of dew she wears,
Prove to be presaging tears,
Which the fad morn had let fall
On her haft'ning funeral.
Gentle Lady, may thy grave
Peace and quiet ever have;
After this thy travel fore
Sweet reft feife thee evermore,
That to give the world increase,
Shortened haft thy own life's leafe.
Here, befides the forrowing
That thy noble house doth bring,
Here be tears of perfect moan
Wept for thee in Helicon,
And fome flowers, and fome bays,
For thy herfe, to ftrow the ways,
Sent thee from the banks of Came,
Devoted to thy virtuous name ;
Whilft thou, bright Saint, high fitft in glory,
Next her much like to thee in ftory,
That fair Syrian shepherdess,
Who after years of barrennefs,
The highly favor'd Jofeph bore
To him that ferv'd for her before,
And at her next birth much like thee,
Through pangs fled to felicity,
63. That fair Syrian fhepherdefs,] Rachael, the daughter of Laban the Syrian, kept her father's fheep. Gen. XXIX. 9.. And. after her first fon Jofeph, died in childbed of her fecond fon Benjamin.
Far within the bofom bright
Of blazing Majefty and Light:
There with thee, new welcome Saint,
Like fortunes may her foul acquaint,
With thee there clad in radiant fheen,
No Marchionefs, but now a Queen.
OW the bright morning ftar, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowflip, and the pale primrose, Hail bounteous May that doft inspire Mirth and youth and warm defire; Woods and groves are of thy dreffing, Hill and dale doth boaft thy bleffing Thus we falute thee with our early fong, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Dear fon of memory, great heir of fame,
What need'st thou fuch weak witness of thy name ?
Thou in our wonder and astonishment
Haft built thyself a live-long monument.
On SHAKESPEAR. 1630.
HAT needs my Shakespear for his honor'd bones The labor of an age in piled ftones, Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid Under a starry-pointing pyramid ?