2 He expounds the weary wonder Spreads a path clear as the day, Muster forth into the valley, Where triumphant darkness hovers With a sable wing, that covers Brooding horror. Come, thou Death, 3 Let the damps of thy dull breath Overshadow even the shade, And make Darkness' self afraid; There my feet, even there, shall find Way for a resolvèd mind. Still my Shepherd, still my God Thou art with me; still Thy rod, At the whisper of Thy word They are starved, and I am fed. How my head in ointment swims! Fresh from th' pure glance of Thine eye, Lighting to Eternity. There I'll dwell for ever, there Will I find a purer air, To feed my life with; there I'll sup Balm and nectar in my cup; And thence my ripe soul will I breathe Warm into the arms of Death. V Psalm crrrvií. On the proud banks of great Euphrates' flood, There we sate, and there we wept : Our harps, that now no music understood, Nodding, on the willows slept : While unhappy captived we, Lovely Sion, thought on thee. They, they that snatch'd us from our country's breast Would have a song carved to their ears In Hebrew numbers, then (O cruel jest!) When harps and hearts were drown'd in tears: One of Sion's songs to-day. Sing? play? to whom (ah !) shall we sing or play, Ah! thee Jerusalem! ah! sooner may This hand forget the mastery Of Music's dainty touch, than I The music of thy memory. Which, when I lose, O may at once my tongue No, no, Thy good, Sion, alone must crown But Edom, cruel thou! thou criedst down, down Her falling thou didst urge and thrust, And haste to dash her into dust: Dost laugh, proud Babel's daughter? do, laugh on, Till thy ruin teach thee tears, Even such as these; laugh, till a 'venging throng Laugh till thy children's bleeding bones :0: * On a Treatise of Charity. Rise, then, immortal maid! Religion, rise! Be what thy beauties, not our blots, have made thee, Heaven set thee down new dress'd; when thy bright birth Girt all thy glories to thee: then sit down, Open this book, fair Queen, and take thy crown. Where thou shalt reach all hearts, command each eye. Which they themselves were; each one putting on A majesty that may beseem thy throne. * Shelford's "Discourses" (Cambridge: 1635), in which volume the adopted text of the present poem appears. Most edd. lack the last 10 lines of the present text.-ED. The holy youth of Heaven, whose golden rings By the fair laws of thy firm-pointed pen, - 2 Pure sluttishness for pure religion : No longer shall our Churches' frighted stones Of dead Devotion; nor faint marbles weep A melancholy mansion in those cold Urns. Like God's sanctuaries they look'd of old : Or to a new god, Desolation. No more the hypocrite shall th' upright be While others bend their knee, no more shalt thou, Baked in hot scorn, for a burnt sacrifice: To bring a pair of meek and humble eyes. |