XXIII. And sullen Moloch, fled, Hath left in shadows dread In dismal dance about the furnace blue; The brutish gods of Nile as fast, Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste. Nor is Osiris seen XXIV. In Memphian grove or green, 210 Trampling the unshowered grass with lowings loud; Nor can he be at rest Within his sacred chest ; Nought but profoundest Hell can be his shroud; In vain, with timbreled anthems dark, The sable-stolèd sorcerers bear his worshiped ark. 220 XXV. He feels from Juda's land The dreaded Infant's hand; The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn; Nor all the gods beside Longer dare abide, Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine : Our Babe, to show his Godhead true, Can in his swaddling bands control the damnèd crew. XXVI. So, when the sun in bed, Curtained with cloudy red, Pillows his chin upon an orient wave, The flocking shadows pale Troop to the infernal jail, 230 Each fettered ghost slips to his several grave, And the yellow-skirted fays Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-loved maze. XXVII. But see the Virgin blest Hath laid her Babe to rest. Time is our tedious song should here have ending : Heaven's youngest-teemèd star Hath fixed her polished car, 240 Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending; And all about the courtly stable Bright-harnessed Angels sit in order serviceable. UPON THE CIRCUMCISION. YE flaming Powers, and wingèd Warriors bright, Seas wept from our deep sorrow. He who with all Heaven's heraldry whilere Sore doth begin His infancy to seize ! O more exceeding love, or law more just? T ΙΟ Emptied his glory, even to nakedness; And that great covenant which we still transgress And the full wrath beside Of vengeful justice bore for our excess, And seals obedience first with wounding smart This day; but oh! ere long, Huge pangs and strong Will pierce more near his heart. 20 THE PASSION. I. EREWHILE of music, and ethereal mirth, In wintry solstice like the shortened light II. For now to sorrow must I tune my song, And set my harp to notes of saddest woe, Which on our dearest Lord did seize ere long, Dangers, and snares, and wrongs, and worse than so, Which he for us did freely undergo : Most perfect Hero, tried in heaviest plight Of labours huge and hard, too hard for human wight! III. He, sovran Priest, stooping his regal head, That dropt with odorous oil down his fair eyes, His starry front low-roofed beneath the skies: 20 Yet more the stroke of death he must abide; Then lies him meekly down fast by his brethren's side. IV. These latest scenes confine my roving verse; His godlike acts, and his temptations fierce, Of lute, or viol still, more apt for mournful things. V. Befriend me, Night, best patroness of grief! That heaven and earth are coloured with my woe; My sorrows are too dark for day to know: 30 The leaves should all be black whereon I write, And letters, where my tears have washed, a wannish white. VI. See, see the chariot, and those rushing wheels, VII. Mine eye hath found that sad sepulchral rock 40 For sure so well instucted are my tears VIII. Or, should I thence, hurried on viewless wing, 50 Might think the infection of my sorrows loud Had got a race of mourners on some pregnant cloud. This Subject the Author finding to be above the years he had when he wrote it, and nothing satisfied with what was begun, left it unfinished. ON TIME. 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 entombed, And, last of all, thy greedy self consumed, Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss With an individual 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 Of Him, to whose happy-making sight alone When once our heavenly-guided soul shall climb, Attired with stars we shall for ever sit, ΙΟ 20 Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O |