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His godlike acts, and his temptations fierce,
Of lute, or viol still, more apt for mournful things.
Befriend me, Night! best patroness of grief;
And work my flattered fancy to belief,
That Heaven and Earth are coloured with my woe:
My sorrows are too dark for day to know:
The leaves should all be black whereon I write!
And letters, where my tears have washed, a wannish white.
See! see the chariot! and those rushing wheels,
In pensive trance, and anguish, and ecstatic fit.
Mine eye hath found that sad sepulchral rock
For sure so well instructed are my tears,
Or should I, thence hurried on viewless wing,
Might think the infection of my sorrows loud
Had got a race of mourners on some pregnant cloud.
This subject the Author finding to be above the years he had, when he wrote it, and nothing satisfied with what was begun, left it unfinished.
ON TIM E.
[To be set on a Clock-Casc.]
FLY, envious Time! till thou run out thy race;
Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace;
So little is our loss,
So little is thy gain!
For when as each thing bad thou hast entombed,
And last of all thy greedy self consumed,
Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss
With an individual kiss;
And Joy shall overtake us as a flood,
When everything that is sincerely good
And perfectly divine,
With Truth, and Peace, and Love, shall ever shine
About the supreme throne
Of him, to whose happy-making sight alone
When once our heav'nly-guided soul shall climb,
Then, all this earthly grossness quit,
Attired with stars, we shall for ever sit,
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O Time!
UPON THE CIRCUMCISION.
YE flaming Powers, and wingèd Warriors bright!
Burn in your sighs, and borrow
Seas wept from our deep sorrow:
He who with all Heaven's heraldry whilere
Entered the world, now bleeds to give us ease;
Sore doth begin
His infancy to seize!
O more exceeding love, or law more just?
Emptied his glory, even to nakedness;
And that great covenant which we still transgress
And the full wrath beside
Of vengeful Justice bore for our excess;
And seals obedience first, with wounding smart,
This day; but, oh! ere long
Huge pangs and strong
Will pierce more near his heart.
AT A SOLEMN MUSIC.
BLEST pair of Sirens! pledges of Heaven's joy,
With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee;
That we on earth, with undiscording voice,
To their great Lord, whose love their motion swayed
In first obedience, and their state of good.
O may we soon again renew that song,
And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long
To live with him, and sing in endless morn of light.
AN EPITAPH ON THE MARCHIONESS OF
THIS rich marble doth inter
The honoured wife of Winchester,
A Viscount's daughter, an Earl's heir,
Added to her noble birth,
More than she could own from earth.
After so short time of breath,
To house with darkness, and with death.
Yet had the number of her days
Been as complete as was her praise,
In giving limit to her life.
Her high birth, and her graces sweet,
The virgin quire for her request
But with a scarce well-lighted flame;
Once had the early matrons run
But, whether by mischance or blame,
And with remorseless cruelty
So have I seen some tender slip,
Gentle Lady! may thy grave
Peace and quiet ever have;
Sweet rest seize thee evermore,
That, to give the world increase,
Shortened hast thy own life's lease.
Here, beside the sorrowing
That thy noble house doth bring,
And some flowers, and some bays,
For thy hearse, to strew the ways,
Sent thee from the banks of Came,
Devoted to thy virtuous name;
Whilst thou, bright Saint! high sitst in glory,
much like to thee in story,