Peer and Baalim

XXII.

Forfake their Temples dim,

With that twice batter'd god of Palestine,

And mooned Ashtaroth,

Heav'ns Queen and Mother both,

Now fits not girt with Tapers holy shine, The Libyc Hammon shrinks his horn,

In vain the Tyrian Maids their wounded Thamiz,

XXIII.

And fullen Moloch filed,

Hath left in fhadows dred

His burning Idol all of blackest hue; In vain, with Cymbals ring,

They call the grisly King,

In difmal dance about the furnace blue;

The brutish gods of Nile as faft,

Ifis and Orus, and the Dog Anubis, haste.

Nor is Ofiris een

XXIV.

In Memphian Grove, or Green,

[mourn.

Trampling the unshowr'd Grass with lowings loud: Nor can he be at reft

Within his facred cheft,

Nought but profoundest Hell can be his shroud, In vain with Timbrel'd Anthems dark

The fable-ftoled Sorcerers bear his worship'd Ark.
XXV.

He feels from Juda's Land
The dredded Infant's hand,

The rayes of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn; Nor all the Gods befide,

Longer dare abide,

Not Typhon huge ending in fnaky twinekdo dział Our Babe, to fhew his Godhead true,

Can in his fwadling bands controul the damned crew. XXVI.

3

So when the Sun in bed,

Curtain'd with cloudy red,

Pillows his chin upon an Orient wave,

The flocking fhadows pale,

Troop to th'infernal Jail,

Each fetter'd Ghost slips to his several grave, And the yellow-skirted Fayes,

Fly after the Night-steeds, leaving their Moon-lov'd

XXVII.

But fee the Virgin bleft

Hath laid her Babe to reft,

[maze.

Time is our tedious Song should here have ending: Heav'ns youngest teemed Star

Hath fix'd her polish'd Car,

Her fleeping Lord with Handmaid Lamp attending: And all about the Courtly Stable,

Bright-harneft Angels fit in order serviceable.

Anno ætatis 17.

On the Death of a fair Infant, a Nephew of bis, dying of a Cough.

1.

Faireft flower no fooner blown but blafted,
Soft filken Primrose fading timelefly,

Summer's chief Honour, if thou hadft out-lafted
Bleak winter's force that made thy bloffom drie;
For he being amorous on that lovely die

That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kifs But kill'd, alas, and then bewail'd his fatal bliss.

For fince grim Aquilo his charioteer

By boiftrous rape th' Athenian damsel got,
He thought it toucht his Deity full near,
If likewife he fome fair one wedded not,
Thereby to wipe away th' infamous blot

Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld,
Which 'mongst the wanton Gods a foul reproach was

So mounting up in ycie-pearled car,

[held.

Through middle empire of the freezing air
He wander'd long, till thee he fpy'd from far,
There ended was his quest, there ceast his care.
Down he descended from his Snow-foft chair,

But all unwares with his cold-kind embrace Unhous'd thy Virgin Soul from her fair biding place.

IV.

Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate;
For fo Apollo, with unweeting hand,
Whilom did flay his dearly-loved mate
Young Hyacinth born on Eurota's ftrand,
Young Hyasinth the pride of Spartan land;

But then transform'd him to a purple flower, Alack that foto change thee winter had no power. V.

Yet can I not perfwade me thou art dead,

Or that thy coarfe corrupts in earth's dark womb,
Or that thy beauties lie in wormie bed,

Hid from the World in a low delved tomb;
Could Heav'n for pity thee fo ftrictly doom?

Oh no! for fomething in thy face did shine
Above mortality, that fhew'd thou waft divine.
VI.

Refolve me then, oh Soul most surely bleft,
(If fe it be that thou these plaints doft hear)
Tell me bright Spirit where-ere thou hovereft,
Whether above that high first-moving Sphere,
Or in the Elifian fields (if such there were.)

O fay me true, if thou wert mortal wight,
And why from us so quicklyrhou didst take thy flight.
VII.

Wert thou fome Star which from the ruin'd roof

Of Lak't Olympus by mischance didst fall;

Which careful Jove in Nature's true behoof
Took up, and in fit place did remistal?
Or did of late earth's Sons befiege the wall
Of heenie Heav'n, and thou some g
godder's fed A
Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head.
VII

Or wert thou that juft Maid who once before
Forfook the hated earth, Otell me footh,
And cam'ff again to visit us once more?
Or wert thou that sweet fmiling Youth?
Or that crown'd Matron fage white-robed Truth?
Or any other of that Heav'nly brood

Let down in clowdie throne to do the World fome
[good?

IX.

Or wert thou of the golden-winged hoaft,
Who having clad thy felf in humane weed,
To earth from thy præfixed feat didft poast,*
And after short abode flie back with Tpeed,
As if to fhew what creatures Heav'n doth breed,
Thereby to fet the hearts of men on fire

To fcorn the fordid world, and unto Heav'n afpire. A

To blefs us with thy Heav'n-lov'd innocence,
To flake his wrath whom fin hath made our foe,
To turn fwift-rushing black perdition hence,
Or drive away the flaughtering peftilence,

To ftand’twixt us and our deferved fmart?ada But thou canft beft perform that office where thou art