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VI.

UPON THE CIRCUMCISION.

E flaming Powers, and winged Warriors bright, That erft with mufic, and triumphant fong, First heard by happy watchful shepherds' ear, So fweetly fung your joy the clouds along Through the soft silence of the lift'ning night; Now mourn, and if fad fhare with us to bear Your fiery effence can distil no tear, Burn in your fighs, and borrow

Seas wept from our deep forrow:

He who with all Heav'n's heraldry whilere
Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us ease;
Alas, how foon our fin

Sore doth begin

His infancy to feize!

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

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

And that great covenant which we still transgress
Entirely fatisfied,

And the full wrath befide

Of vengeful juftice bore for our excefs,

And feals obedience firft with wounding smart
This day, but O ere long

Huge pangs and strong

Will pierce more near his heart.

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VII. AT

VII.

AT A SOLEMN MUSIC.

BLEST pair of Syrens, pledges of Heav'n's joy,

Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse,
Wed your divine founds, and mix'd power employ
Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce,
And to our high-rais'd phantafy present
That undisturbed fong of pure concent,
Ay fung before the fapphire-color'd throne
To him that fits thereon

With faintly fhout and folemn jubilee,
Where the bright Seraphim in burning row
Their loud up-lifted angel-trumpets blow,
And the cherubic hoft in thousand quires
Touch their immortal harps of golden wires,
With thofe juft Spirits that wear victorious palms,
Hymns devout and holy pfalms

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Singing everlastingly;

That we on earth with undifcording voice

May rightly answer that melodious noife;
As once we did, till difproportion'd fin

Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsh din
Broke the fair mufic that all creatures made

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To their great Lord, whofe love their motion fway'd In perfect diapafon, whilft they stood

In first obedience, and their state of good.

O may we foon again renew that song,

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

To live with him, and fing in endless morn of light!

VIII. An

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VIII.

An EPITAPH on the Marchionefs of Winchester*.

HIS rich marble doth inter

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The honor'd wife of Winchester,

A Viscount's daughter, an Earl's heir,
Befides what her virtues fair

Added to her noble birth,

More than she could own from earth.

Summers three times eight fave one
She had told; alas too foon,
After fo fhort time of breath,

To house with darkness, and with death.
Yet, had the number of her days
Been as complete 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 ;

He at their invoking came

But with a fcarce well-lighted flame;
And in his garland as he stood
Ye might difcern a cypress-bud.
Once had the early matrons run
To greet her of a lovely fon,

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* Jane, daughter of Thomas Lord Viscount Savage of Rock-Savage.

And

And now with fecond hope fhe goes,
And calls Lucina to her throes;
But whether by mifchance or blame
Atropos for Lucina came;
And with remorfelefs cruelty
Spoil'd at once both fruit and tree:
The hapless babe before his birth
Had burial, yet not laid in earth,
And the languish'd mother's womb
Was not long a living tomb.
So have I feen fome tender flip,
Sav'd with care from winter's nip,

The pride of her carnation train,
Pluck'd up by fome unheedy fwain,
Who only thought to crop the flower
New fhot up from vernal fhower;
But the fair blossom hangs the head
Side-ways as on a dying bed,
And those pearls of dew fhe wears,
Prove to be prefaging tears,
Which the fad morn had let fall
On her haftening funeral.
Gentle Lady, may thy grave

Peace and quiet ever have;

After this thy travel fore
Sweet reft feize thee evermore,

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That to give the world increase,
Shortned haft thy own life's leafe!
Here, befides the forrowing

That thy noble house doth bring,

Here

Wept for thee in Helicon,

ON MAY MORNING.

Here be tears of perfect moan

And fome flowers, and fome bays,

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For thy herfe, to ftrow the ways,

Sent thee from the banks of Came,

Devoted to thy virtuous name;

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Whilft thou, bright Saint, high fitst in glory,

Next her much like to thee in story,

That fair Syrian shepherdess,

Who after years of barrenness,

The highly-favor'd Joseph bore

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To him that ferv'd for her before,
And at her next birth, much like thee,
Through pangs fled to felicity,
Far within the bofom bright
Of blazing Majesty and Light:
There with thee, new welcome Saint,
Like fortunes may her foul acquaint,
With thee there clad in radiant sheen,
No Marchionefs, but now a Queen.

IX.

SONG. ON MAY MORNING.

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OW the bright morning ftar, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowflip, and the pale primrose.

Hail, bounteous May, that doft inspire
Mirth and youth and warm defire;

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