0

Yet on the soften'd quarry would I score
My plaining verfe as lively as before;

For fure fo well instructed are my tears,
That they would fitly fall in order'd characters.

Take

VIII.

Or should I thence hurried on viewless wing,
up a weeping on the mountains wild,
The gentle neighbourhood of grove and spring
Would foon unbosom all their echoes mild,
And I (for grief is easily beguil'd)

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Might think th' infection of my forrows loud Had got a race of mourners on some pregnant cloud. This fubject the Author finding to be above the years he had, when he wrote it, and nothing fatisfied with what was begun, left it unfinish'd.

FL

LY envious Time, till thou run out thy race, Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours, Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace; And glut thyself with what thy womb devours, Which is no more than what is false and vain, And merely mortal dross;

So little is our loss,

So little is thy gain.

For when as each thing bad thou haft intomb'd,
And last of all thy greedy self consum'd,

M 3

5

ΙΟ

Then

Then long Eternity fhall greet our bliss

With an individual kiss;

And Joy fhall overtake us as a flood,

When every thing that is fincerely good

And perfectly divine,

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With truth, and peace, and love, fhall ever shine About the fupreme throne

Of him, t' whofe happy-making fight alone

When once our heav'nly-guided foul fhall clime,
Then all this earthy grofness quit,

20

(Time.

Attir'd with ftars, we shall for ever sit,
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O

VI.

Upon the CIRCUMCISION.

E flaming Pow'rs, and winged Warriors bright

Y That erft with mufic, and triumphant fong,

First heard by happy watchful shepherds ear,
So sweetly fung your joy the clouds along
Through the foft filence of the list'ning night;
Now mourn, and if sad share with us to bear
Your fiery effence can distil no tear,

5

Burn in your fighs, and borrow

Seas wept from our deep forrow:

He who with all Heav'n's heraldry whilere
Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us ease;

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Alas, how foon our fin

Sore doth begin

His infancy to seise!

O more exceeding love or law more just?
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 secret bliss, for us frail duft
Emptied his glory, ev'n to nakedness;

And that great covenant which we still transgress
Entirely fatisfied,

And the full wrath befide

Of vengeful justice bore for our excess,

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And feals obedience first with wounding smart 25 This day, but O ere long

Huge pangs and strong

Will pierce more near his heart.

BLE

Wed

VII.

At a SOLEMN MUSIC.
LEST pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav'n's joy,
Sphere-born harmonious fifters, Voice andVerse,
your divine founds, and mix'd pow'r employ
Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce,
And to our high-rais'd phantasy present
That undisturbed fong of pure concent,
Ay fung before the saphir-color'd throne
To him that fits thereon

With faintly shout, and folemn jubilee,
Where the bright Seraphim in burning row

M 4

5

ΙΟ

Their

Their loud up-lifted angel-trumpets blow,
And the cherubic host in thousand quires
Touch their immortal harps of golden wires,

With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms,
Hymns devout and holy pfalms

Singing everlastingly;

That we on earth with undiscording voice
May rightly answer that melodious noise;
As once we did, till difproportion'd fin

15

Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsh din 20 Broke the fair music that all creatures made

To their great Lord, whose love their motion fway'd In perfect diapafon, whilst they stood

In firft 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 celeitial confort us unite,

25

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

VIII.

An EPITAPH on the MARCHIONESS of Winchester.

T

HIS rich Marble doth enter

The honor'd Wife of Winchester,

A Vicount's daughter, an Earl's heir,
Befides what her virtues fair

Added to her noble birth,

More than fhe could own from earth.

Sum

Summers three times eight fave one

She had told; alas too soon,

After fo fhort time of breath,

To house 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

sweet

In giving limit to her life.
Her high birth, and her graces
Quickly found a lover meet;
The virgin quire for her request
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,
Ye might difcern a cypress bud.
Once had the early matrons run
To greet her of a lovely son,

And now with fecond hope fhe goes,
And calls Lucina to her throws;

But whether by mischance 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 languifh'd mother's womb
Was not long a living tomb.

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So