O more exceeding love, or law more just? Jus: law indeed, but more exceeding love ! For we, by rightful doom temediless, Were lost in death, till he, that dwelt above, High-thron'd in secret bliss, for us frail dust Emptied his glory, even to nakedness ; And that great covenant which we still transgress Entirely satisfied;
And the full wrath beside
Of vengeful justice bore for our excess; And seals obedience first, with wounding smart,
This day; but, O! ere long,
Huge pangs and strong
Will pierce more near his heart.
ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT,
O FAIREST tower, no sooner blown but blasted, Soft silken primrose fading timelessly, Summer's chief honour, if thou hadst out-lasted Bleak winter's force that made thy blossom dry: For he, being amorous on that lovely die
That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss, Bat kill'd, alas! and then bewail'd his fatal bliss.
For since grim Aquilo, his charioteer, By boisterous rape the Athenian damsel got, He thought it touch'd his deity full near, If likewise he some fair one wedded not, Thereby to wipe away the infamous blot
Of long-uncoupled bed and childless eld, Which, 'mongst the wanton gods, a a foul reproach
So, mounting up in icy-pearled car, The ugh middle empire of the freezing air- He wander'd long, till thee he spied from far;
There ended was his quest, there ceas'd his care : Down he descended from his snow-soft chair,
But, all unwares, with his cold kind embrace Unhous'd thy virgin soul from her fair biding.
Yet thou art not inglorious in thy fate; For so Apollo, with unweeting hand, Whilom did slay his dearly-loved mate, Young Hyacinth, born on Eurotas' strand, Young Hyacinth, the pride of Spartan land; But then transform'd him to a purple flower: Alack, that so to change thee Winter had no power
Yet can I not persuade me thou art dead, Or that thy corse corrupts in earth's dark womt, Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed, Hid from the world in a low-delv'd tomb; Could Heaven for pity thee so strictly doom? Oh no! for something in thy face did shine Above mortality, that show'd thou wast divine.
Resolve me, then, oh soul most surely blest ! (If so it be that thou these plaints dost hear,) Tell me, bright spirit, where'er thou hoverest, Whether above that high first-moving sphere, Or in the Elysian fields, (if such were there ;) Oh say me true, if thou wert mortal wight, And why from us so quickly thou didst take thy
Wert thou some star which from the ruin'd roof Of shak'd Olympus by mischance didst fall; Which careful Jove in nature's true behoof Took up, and in fit place did reinstall? Or did of late Earth's sons besiege the wall
Of sheeny heaven, and thou, some goddess filed Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head?
Or wert thou that just maid, who once before Forsook the hated earth, O tell me sooth, And camest again to visit us once more? Or wert thou that sweet-smiling youth ? Or that crown'd matron sage, white-robed Truth? Or any other of that heavenly brood, [good? Let down in cloudy throne to do the world some
Or wert thou of the golden-winged host, Who, having clad thyself in human weed, To earth from thy prefixed seat didst post, And after short abode fily back with speed, As if to show what creatures heaven doth breed; Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire,
To scorn the sordid world, and unto heaven aspire?
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But oh! why didst thou not stay here below, To bless us with thy heaven-lov'd innocence, To slake his wrath whom sin hath made our foe, To turn swift-rushing black perdition hence, Or drive away the slaughtering pestilence,
To stand 'twixt us and our deserved smart?[art. But thou canst best perform that office where thou
Then thou, the mother of so sweet a child, Her false-imagin'd loss cease to lament, And wisely learn to curb thy sorrows wild; Think what a present thou to God hast sent And render him with patience what he lenta. This if thou do, he will an offspring give, That till the world's last end shall make thy name
FLY, envious Time, till thou run out thy races Call on the lazy leaden-stepping Hours, Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's And glut thyself with what the word devours
Which is no more than what is false and vain,
And merely mortal dross;
So little is our loss,
So little is thy gain!
For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd, And last of all thy greedy self consum'd,
Then long eternity shall greet our bliss
With an individual kiss;
And joy shall overtake us as a flood,
When every thing 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 heavenly-guided soul shall climb, Then, all this earthy grossness quit,
Attir'd with stars we shall for ever sit,
Triumphing over death, and chance, and thes O Time!
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BLEST pair of Sirens, pledges of heaven's joy, Sphere born, harmonious sisters, Voice and Versa Wed your divine sounds, and mix'd power employ Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce; And to our high-rais'd phantasy present That undisturbed song of pure consent, Aye sung before the sapphire-colour'd throne
To Him that sits thereon, With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee; Where the bright seraphim, in burning row Their loud up-lifted angel-trumpets blow; And the cherubic host, in thousand quires, Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, With those just spirits that wear victorious palm Hyuns devout and holy psalme
Singing everlastinglysage to
That we on earth, with undiscording voice, May rightly answer that melodious noise; As once we did, till disproportion'd sin Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsh din Broke the fair music that all creatures made To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway'd In perfect diapason, whilst they stood... 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 his celestial concert us unite,
To live with him, and sing in endless morn of
ΑΝ ΕΡΙTAPH ON THE MARCHIONESS OF WINCHESTER.
THIS rich marble doth inter
The honour'd wife of Winchester, A viscount's daughter, an earl's heir, Besides what her virtues fair
Added to her noble birth, More than she could own from earth. Summers three times eight save one She has told; alas! too soon
After so short time of breath, 1979.39
To house with darkness and with death. its Yet had the number of her days Been as complete as was her praise, Nature and fate had had no strifeleras In giving limit to her life.wor
Her high birth and her graces sweet, Quickly found a lover meet; 194 10 The virgin quire for her requesti preset voi 1 The god that sits at marriage feasts worl He at their invoking came,
But with a scarce well-lighted flame,
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