2 Kinge. From him, whom by a more illustrious ly, The blindnes of the World did call the eye. 45 3 Kinge. To Him, Who by these mortall clouds hast made Thyself our sun, though Thine Own shade. 1 Kinge. Farewell, the World's false light! 2 Kinge. 3 Kinge. Chorus. Farewell, the white Ægypt; a long farewell to thee Bright idol, black idolatry: The dire face of inferior darknes, kis't Farewell, farewell 50 The proud and misplac't gates of Hell, 55 Pertch't in the Morning's way perched. And double-guilded as the doores of Day: The deep hypocrisy of Death and Night More desperately dark, because more bright. Welcome, the World's sure way! Heavn's wholsom ray. Wellcome to vs; and we (Sweet) to our selues, in Thee. 1 Kinge. The deathles Heir of all Thy Father's day! Embosom'd in a much more rosy Morn: 60 65 VOL. I. M 1 Kinge. We, who strangely went astray, 2 King. A darknes made of too much day. 3 Kinge. Becken'd from farr By Thy fair starr, Lo, at last hane found our way. Chorus. To Thee, Thou Day of Night! Thou East of West! Lo, we at last haue found the way To Thee, the World's great vniuersal East, 1 Kinge. All-circling point! all-centring sphear! 2 Kinge. Whose full and all-vnwrinkled face Nor sinks nor swells with time or place; 3 Kinge. But euery where and enery while Is one consistent, solid smile: 15 20 25 30 2 Kinge. Twixt Spring and frost; 3 Kinge. Nor by alternate shredds of light, Chorits. The World lyes warm, and likes his place; 36 Nor does his full globe fail to be Kist on both his cheeks by Thee. Time is too narrow for Thy year, 40 Nor makes the whole World Thy half-sphear. 2 Kinge. From him, whom by a more illustrious ly, The blindnes of the World did call the eye. 45 3 Kinge. To Him, Who by these mortall clouds hast made Thyself our sun, though Thine Own shade. 1 Kinge. Farewell, the World's false light! 2 Kinge. 3 Kinge. Chorus. Farewell, the white Ægypt; a long farewell to thee Bright idol, black idolatry: The dire face of inferior darknes, kis't Farewell, farewell 50 The proud and misplac't gates of Hell, 55 Pertch't in the Morning's way perched. And double-guilded as the doores of Day: The deep hypocrisy of Death and Night More desperately dark, because more bright. Welcome, the World's sure way! Heavn's wholsom ray. Wellcome to vs; and we (Sweet!) to our selues, in Thee. 1 Kinge. The deathles Heir of all Thy Father's day! Embosom'd in a much more rosy Morn: 60 65 VOL. I. M 3 Kinge. Chorus. No more that other Aurora shall sett ope Her ruby casements, or hereafter hope To meet religious welcomes at her rise. 1 King. His superficiall beames sun-burn't our 70 75 3 Kinge. The Night and Winter still of Death and Sin. Chorus. Thy softer yet more certaine darts Spare our eyes, but peirce our harts: 1 Kinge. Therfore with his proud Persian spoiles So 2 Kinge. We court Thy more concerning smiles. 3 King. Therfore with his disgrace We guild the humble cheek of this chast place; Chorus. And at Thy feet powr forth his face. 1 Kinge. The doating Nations now no more Shall any day but Thine adore. 85 2 Kinge. Nor-much lesse-shall they leaue these eyes For cheap Egyptian deityes. 3 Kinge. In whatsoe're more sacred shape Of ram, he-goat, or reuerend ape; Those beauteous rauishers opprest so sore 90 By wanton heyfer shall be worn 2 Kinge. A garland, or a guilded horn: The altar-stall'd ox, fatt Osyris now With his fair sister cow 3 Kinge. Shall kick the clouds no more; but lean and tame, Chorus. See His horn'd face, and dy for shame : 1 Kinge. No longer shall the immodest lust 2 Kinge. Fly in the face of Heau'n; as if it were poor World's fault that He is fair. The 95 100 105 3 Kinge. Nor with peruerse loues and religious rapes Reuenge Thy bountyes in their beauteous shapes; And punish best things worst; because they stood Guilty of being much for them too good. 1 Kinge. Proud sons of Death! that durst compell 10 Heau'n it self to find them Hell: 2 Kinge. And by strange witt of madnes wrest From this World's East the other's West. 115 3 Kinge. All-idolizing wormes! that thus could crowd And vrge their sun into Thy cloud; Forcing His sometimes eclips'd face to be A long deliquium to the light of Thee. Chorus. Alas! with how much heauyer shade The shamefac't lamp hung down his head |