Still refting, tho' from fleep they ftill refrain;
Where all are rich, and yet no gold they show;
And all are kings, and yet no fubjects know;
All full, and yet no time on food do they bestow.
XXVIII.

For things that pass, are paft; and in this field,
The spring indefinite, no winter fears;
The trees together fruit and blossoms yield;
Th' unfading lily, leaves of filver bears,
The crimson rofe, a scarlet garment wears:
And all of these on the faint's bodies grow,
Not as they want, on baser earth below.
Three rivers here, of milk, and wine, and honey flow.
XXIX.

About the holy city rolls a flood1

Of molten crystal, like a fea of glass;

On which bright stream a strong foundation stood,
Of living diamonds the building was;

That all things else, it wholly did surpass.

Her streets, the stars, instead of stones did pave, And little pearls for duft, it seem'd to have, On which soft streaming manna like pure fnow did wave. XXX.

In midft of this city celestial,

Where the eternal temple fhou'd have rose,
Lighten'd th' idea beatifical",

End and beginning of each thing that grows;
Whose self no end, nor yet beginning knows;

That hath no eyes to fee, nor ears to hear,
Yet fees, and hears, and is all eye, all ear,
That no where is contain'd, and yet is ev'ry where.

By the poffeffion of all good in the glory of the holy city..
1 Rev. xxii. 1.
In the beatifical vifion of God.

n Rev. xxi. 22, 23.

XXXI.

Changer of all things, yet immutable;

Before, and after all, the first and last;
Who, moving all, is yet immovable;

Great, without quantity; in whose forecast,
Things paft are prefent, things to come are paft;
Swift without motion; unto whofe broad eye
The hearts of wicked men all open lie,
At once, absent and prefent to them, far and nigh.

XXXII.

It is no flaming luftre, made of light;

No fweet content; or well-tim'd harmony;
Ambrofia, for to feaft the appetite;

Or flow'ry odour, mixt with spicery;
No foft embrace, or pleasure bodily:
And yet it is a kind of inward feast;

A harmony, that founds within the breaft;
An odour, light, embrace, in which the foul doth reft.

XXXIII.

A heav'nly feaft no hunger can confume;'

A light unseen, yet fhines in ev'ry place; A found no time can fleal; a sweet perfume No winds can scatter; an entire embrace, That no fatiety can e'er debase:

Receiv'd into fo high a favour, there

The faints, with their compeers, whole worlds outwear; And things unfeen do fee, and things unheard do hear. XXXIV.

Ye bleffed fouls, grown richer by your spoil,

Whofe lofs, tho' great, is caufe of greater gains;

Here may your weary fpirits reft from toil,
Spending your endless evening that remains,

Amongst

Amongst those white Flocks, and celestial Trains,
That feed upon their SHEPHERD's eyes; and frame
That heav'nly mufic of fo wondrous fame,
Pfalming aloud the holy honours of his NAME!

XXXV.

Had I a voice of steel to tune my song;
Were every verse as fmooth as fmootheft glass;
And every member turned to a tongue;

And every tongue were made of founding brass;
Yet all that skill, and all this ftrength, alas!

Shou'd it presume t'adorn (were misadvis'd)

The place, where David hath new fongs devis'd, As on his fhining throne he fits emparadis'd.

XXXVI.

Moft happy prince, whose eyes those stars behold,
Treading ours under feet, now mayft thou

That overflowing fkill, wherewith of old

pour

Thou wont'ft to fmooth rough speech; now mayft thou show'r Fresh ftreams of praise upon that holy bow'r,

Which well we heav'n call, not that it rolls,

But that it is the heaven of our fouls:

Most happy prince, whose fight so heav'nly sight beholds !
XXXVII.

Ah, foolish Shepherds! who were wont t'esteem,
Your God all rough, and fhaggy-hair'd to be;

And yet far wifer Shepherds than ye deem,
For who fo poor (tho' who fo rich) as HE,
When fojourning with us in low degree,

He wash'd his flocks in Jordan's fpotlefs tide;
And that HIS dear remembrance might abide,
Did to us come, and with us liv'd, and for us died.

XXXVIII.

But now fuch lively colours did embeam
His fparkling forehead; and such shining rays
Kindled his flaming locks, that down did stream
In curls along his neck, where fweetly plays
(Singing his wounds of LOVE in facred lays)

His dearest SPOUSE, SPOUSE of the dearest LOVER,
Knitting a thousand knots over and over,
And dying ftill for love, but they her still recover.
XXXIX.

Fairest of FAIRS, that at His eyes doth dress

Her glorious face; thofe eyes, from whence are shed
Attractions infinite; where to express

His LOVE, HIGH GOD! all heav'n as captive leads,
And all the banners of his grace difpreads,

And in those windows doth his arms englaze,

And on those eyes, the angels all do gaze,

And from those eyes, the lights of heav'n obtain their blaze. XL.

But let the Kentish lad°, that lately taught

His oaten reed the trumpet's filver sound,
Young Thyrfilis; and for his music brought

The willing spheres from heav'n, to lead around
The dancing nymphs and fwains, that fung, and crown'd
Eclecta's hymen with ten thousand flow'rs

Of choiceft praise; and hung her heav'nly bow'rs
With faffron garlands, dress'd for nuptial paramours.

XLI.

Let his fhrill trumpet, with her silver blast,

Of fair Eclecta, and her spousal bed,

Be the sweet pipe, and fmooth encomiaft:

But my green muse, hiding her younger head,

• The author of the Purple Island.

i. e. marriage.

Under

Under old Camus' flaggy banks, that spread
Their willow locks abroad, and all the day
With their own watry fhadows wanton play;

Dares not those high amours, and love-fick songs afflay.
XLII..

Impotent words, weak lines, that ftrive in vain;

In vain, alas, to tell fo heav'nly fight!

So heav'nly fight, as none can greater feign,

Feign what he can, that seems of greatest might:
Cou'd any yet compare with INFINITE?

Infinite fure thofe joys; my words but light; LIGHT is the palace where the dwells.-O then, how bright!

FINI S.