0

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

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

VIII.

Or should I thence hurried on viewless wing,
Take up a weeping on the mountains wild,
The gentle neighbourhood of grove and spring
Would foon unbosom all their echoes mild,

50

And I (for grief is easily beguil'd)

Might think th' infection of my forrows loud 55 Had got a race of mourners on fome 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.

F

V.

On TIME.

'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,

5

And merely mortal dross;

So little is our loss,

So little is thy gain.

For when as each thing bad thou hast intomb'd,

And last of all thy greedy self consum'd,

M 3

10

Then

With truth, and peace, and love, shall ever shine

About the fupreme throne

Of him, t' whose happy-making fight alone

When once our heav'nly-guided foul shall clime,

Then all this earthy grosness quit,

20

Attir'd with stars, we shall for ever fit,

(Time.

Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O

VI.

Upon the CIRCUMCISION.

Y

5

E flaming Pow'rs, and winged Warriors bright That erst with music, and triumphant song, First heard by happy watchful shepherds ear, So sweetly fung your joy the clouds along Through the foft filence of the lift'ning night; Now mourn, and if fad share with us to bear Your fiery essence can distil no tear, Burn in your sighs, 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;

10

Alas, how foon our fin

Sore doth begin

His infancy to seise!

O more exceeding love or law more just?

15

Just law indeed, but more exceeding love!
For we by rightful doom remediless

Were loft in death, till he that dwelt above
High thron'd in secret bliss, for us frail dust

Emptied his glory, ev'n to nakedness;
And that great covenant which we still tranfgrefs

20

B

LEST pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav'n's joy,
Sphere-born harmonioussisters, Voice and Verse,

Wed your divine sounds, 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 song of pure concent,

5

Ay fung before the faphir-color'd throne

To him that fits thereon

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

M 4

10

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,

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 first obedience, and their state of good.

O may we foon again renew that fong,

25

And keep in tune with Heav'n, till God ere long

To his celestial confort us unite,

To live with him, and sing 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,
Besides what her virtues fair

Added to her noble birth,

5

More than fhe could own from earth.

Sum

Summers three times eight save one

She had told; alas too foon,

After so short time of breath,

To house with darkness, and with death.

10

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

15

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;

20

And in his garland as he stood,

Ye might difcern a cypress bud.
Once had the early matrons run
To greet her of a lovely fon,

And now with second hope she goes,
And calls Lucina to her throws;

25

But whether by mifchance or blame

Atropos for Lucina came;
And with remorseless cruelty
Spoil'd at once both fruit and tree:

30

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