To bring a pair of meek and humble eyes; This shall from henceforth be the masculine theme ON THE GLORIOUS ASSUMPTION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. ARK! she is call'd, the parting hour is come; Take thy farewell, poor world, Heaven must go home. A piece of heavenly light, purer and brighter Than the chaste stars, whose choice lamps come to light her, She's call'd again; hark! how th' immortal dove Rise up, my fair, my spotless one! The winter's past, the rain is gone: The spring is come, the flowers appear, Come away, my love; Come away, my dove; Cast off delay: The court of heav'n is come, To wait upon thee home; Come away, come away. She's call'd again, and will she go? Since thy great Son will have it so: We in thy praise will have our parts; And though thy dearest looks must now be light To none but the blest heavens, whose bright Beholders, lost in sweet delight, Feed for ever their fair sight With those divinest eyes, which we Though our poor joys are parted so, Thy sacred name shall be With holy cares will keep it by us; We to the last Will hold it fast, And no assumption shall deny us. All sweetest showers Of fairest flowers We'll strew upon it: Though our sweetness cannot make It sweeter, they may take Themselves new sweetness from it. Maria, men and angels sing, Maria, mother of our King. Live, rarest princess, and may the bright Embrace thy radiant brows! O, may the best A HYMN ON THE CIRCUMCISION OF OUR LORD. RISE, thou best and brightest morning, Rosy with a double red; With thine own blush thy cheeks adorning, And the dear drops this day were shed. All the purple pride of laces, The crimson curtains of thy bed; Gild thee not with so sweet graces, Nor set thee in so rich a red. Of all the fair-cheek'd flowers that fill thee, None so fair thy bosom strews, As this modest maiden lily Our sins have shamed into a rose. Bid the golden god, the sun, Let him make poor the purple East, Let him embrace his own bright tresses When he hath done all he may, To make himself rich in his rise, All will be darkness to the day That breaks from one of these bright eyes. And soon this sweet truth shall appear, Dear babe, ere many days be done : The morn shall come to meet thee here, Here are beauties shall bereave him Of all his eastern paramours: And swear faith to thy sweeter powers. Nor while they leave him shall they lose the sun, * ON HOPE. By way of Question and Answer, between A. Cowley and R. Crashaw. COWLEY. OPE, whose weak being ruin'd is, Alike, if it succeed and if it miss : Whom ill and good doth equally confound, And both the horns of fate's dilemma wound: Vain shadow! that doth vanish quite Both at full noon and perfect night: If things, then, from their ends we happy call, CRASHAW. Dear Hope! earth's dowry, and heaven's debt, The entity of things that are not yet: . These two lines are not in the version of the Paris edition of 1652. G |