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UPON THE CIRCUMCISION.
E flaming Powers, and winged Warriors bright,
That erst with music, and triumphant song,
First heard by happy watchful shepherds' ear,
So sweetly sung your joy the clouds along
Through the soft silence of the list’ning night;
Now mourn, and if sad share with us to bear
Your fiery essence can distil no tear,
Burn in your sighs, 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 sin
Sore doth begin
His infancy to seize!
O more exceeding love or law more just!
Just law indeed, but more exceeding love !
For we by rightful doom remediless
Were lost in death, till he that dwelt above
High thron'd in secret bliss, for us frail dust
Emptied his glory, ev'n 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 25
This day, but o ere long
Huge pangs and strong
Will pierce more near his heart.
AT A SOLEMN MUSIC.
LEST pair of Syrens, pledges of Heav'n's joy,
Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse, 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
5 That undisturbed song of pure concent, Ay sung before the sapphire-color'd throne To him that fits thereon With faintly fout and folemn 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 palms, Hymns devout and holy psalms
15 Singing everlastingly; That we on earth with undiscording voice May rightly answer that inelodious 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 diapafon, whilst they stood In first obedience, and their state of good. O may we foon again renew that song,
25 And keep in tune with Heav'n, till God ere long To his celestial concert us unite, To live with him, and sing in endless morn of light!
An EPITAPH on the Marchioness of Winchester*.
HIS rich marble doth inter
The honor'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 had told; alas too soon,
After so fort 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
15 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 scarce well-lighted flame; And in his garland as he stood Ye might discern a cypress-bud. Once had the early matrons run To greet her of a lovely son,
* Jane, daughter of Thomas Lord Viscount Savage of Rock-Savage.
And now with second hope she goes,
And calls Lucina to her throes;
But whether by mischance or blame
Atropos for Lucina came;
And with remorseless 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 seen some tender slip,
Sav’d with care from winter's nip,
The pride of her carnation train,
Pluck'd up by some unheedy swain,
Who only thought to crop the flower
New shot up from vernal shower;
But the fair blossom hangs the head
Side-ways as on a dying bed,
And those pearls of dew she wears,
Prove to be presaging tears,
Which the sad morn had let fall
On her hastening funeral.
Gentle Lady, may thy grave
Peace and quiet ever have;
After this thy travel fore
Sweet rest seize thee evermore,
That to give the world increase,
Shortned haft thy own life's lease!
Here, besides the sorrowing
That thy noble house doth bring,
Here be tears of perfect moan
Wept for thee in Helicon,
And some flowers, and some bays,
For thy herse, to strow the ways,
Sent thee from the banks of Came,
Devoted to thy virtuous name;
Whilst 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
To him that serv'd for her before,
And at her next birth, much like thee,
Through pangs fled to felicity,
Far within the bosom bright
Of blazing Majesty and Light:
There with thee, new welcome Saint,
Like fortunes may her soul acquaint,
With thee there clad in radiant sheen,
No Marchioness, but now a Queen.
Ow the bright morning star, day's harbinger,
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire
5 Mirth and youth and warm desire; VOL. III.