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Befriend me night best Patroness of grief,
Over the Pole thy thickeft mantle throw,
And work my flatter'd fancy to belief,
That Heav'n and Earth are colour'd with my wo;
My forrows are too dark for day to know:

The leaves fhould all be black wheron I write, And letters where my tears have washt a wannish white.

6.

See fee the Chariot, and those rushing wheels,
That whirl'd the Prophet up at Chebar flood,
My spirit fom transporting Cherub feels,
To bear me where the Towers of Salem ftood,
Once glorious Towers, now funk in guiltless blood;
There doth my foul in holy vision sit
In penfive trance, and anguish, and ecstatick fit.

7.

Mine eye hath found that fad Sepulchral rock
That was the Cafket of Heav'ns richest store,
And here though grief my feeble hands
up lock,
Yet on the softned Quarry would I score
My plaining vers as lively as before;

For fure fo well inftructed are my tears,
That they would fitly fall in order'd Characters.

8.

Or fhould I thence hurried on viewles wing,
Take
up a weeping on the Mountains wilde,
The gentle neighbourhood of grove and spring
Would foon unbofom all their Echoes milde,

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And I (for grief is easily beguild)

Might think th'infection of my forrows loud, Had got a race of mourners on fom pregnant cloud.

This Subject the Author finding to be above the yeers he had, when he wrote it, and nothing fatisfi'd with what was begun, left it unfinisht.

On Time.

LY envious Time, till thou run out thy race,
Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours,
Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets
pace;

And glut thy felf with what thy womb devours,
Which is no more then what is falfe and vain,
And meerly mortal drofs;

So little is our lofs,

So little is thy gain.

For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd, And last of all thy greedy felf confum'd,

Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss

With an individual kifs;

And Joy shall overtake us as a flood,

When every thing that is fincerely good

And perfectly divine,

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With Truth, and Peace, and Love fhall ever shine About the fupreme Throne

Of him, t'whose happy-making fight alone,

When once our heav'nly-guided foul shall clime,

Then all this Earthy grofnefs quit,

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Attir'd with Stars, we fhall for ever fit, Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee O Time.

Upon the Circumcifion.

E flaming Powers, and winged Warriours

bright,

[Long That erft with Musick, and triumphant First heard by happy watchful Shepherds ear, So fweetly fung your Joy the Clouds along Through the soft filence of the list'ning night; Now mourn, and if sad share with us to bear Your fiery effence can diftill no tear,

Burn in your fighs, and borrow

Seas wept from our deep forrow,

He who with all Heav'ns heraldry whilear

Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us ease;
Alas, how foon our fin

Sore doth begin

His infancy to fease!

O more exceeding love or law more just?
Juft law indeed, but more exceeding love!
For we by rightful doom remediles

Were loft in death, till he that dwelt above
High thron'd in fecret bliss, for us frail duft
Emptied his glory, ev'n to nakednes;

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And that great Cov'nant which we ftill tranfgrefs Intirely fatisfi'd,

And the full wrath befide

Of vengeful Justice bore for our excess,
And feals obedience first with wounding smart
This day, but O ere long

Huge pangs and strong

Wed

Will pierce more near his heart.

At a folemn Mufick.

LEST pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav'ns

joy, [and Vers, Sphear-born harmonious Sifters, Voice, your divine founds, and mixt power employ Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce, And to our high-rais'd phantafie present, That undisturbed Song of pure concent, Ay fung before the faphire-colour'd throne To him that fits thereon

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With Saintly shout, and folemn Jubily,
Where the bright Seraphim in burning row
Their loud up-lifted Angel trumpets blow,
And the Cherubick host in thousand quires
Touch their immortal Harps of golden wires,
With those just Spirits that wear victorious Palms,
Hymns devout and holy Pfalms

Singing everlastingly;

That we on Earth with undiscording voice
May rightly answer that melodious noise;
As once we did, till disproportion'd fin
Jarr'd against natures chime, and with harsh din

Broke the fair mufick that all creatures made

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To their great Lord, whofe love their motion fway'd
In perfet Diapafon, whilft they stood

In first obedience, and their state of good.
O may we foon again renew that Song,

And keep in tune with Heav'n, till God ere long
To his celeftial confort us unite,

To live with him, and fing in endles morn of light.

An Epitaph on the Marchionefs of
Winchefter.

HIS rich Marble doth enterr
The honour'd Wife of Winchester,

A Vicounts daughter, an Earls heir,

Befides what her vertues fair

Added to her noble birth,

More then she could own from Earth.
Summers three times eight fave one
She had told, alafs too foon,

After fo fhort time of breath,

To house with darkness, and with death.
Yet had the number of her days
Bin as compleat as was her praise,
Nature and fate had had no ftrife
In giving limit to her life.

Her high birth, and her graces sweet,
Quickly found a lover meet;
The Virgin quire for her request
The God that fits at marriage feast;

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