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Through the soft silence of the list'ning night; 5
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 sorrow :
He who with all heav'n's heraldry whilere
Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us ease;
Alas, how soon 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
Will pierce more near his heart.
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
17 remediless] P. Lost, ix. 919. Sams. Agon. v. 648. 'all remediless.' Warton, Todd.
BLEST pair of Sirens, pledges of heav'n's joy,
Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse,
Wed your divine sounds, and mix'd pow'r employ
Dead things with imbreath'd sense able to pierce ;
And to our high-rais'd phantasy present
That undisturbed song of pure concent,
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 palms,
Hymns devout and holy psalms
That we on earth with undiscording voice
May rightly answer that melodious noise ;
As once we did, till disproportion'd sin
* There are three copies of this ode, all in Milton's own hand writing.
6 concent] So the Cant. MS. not consent.' Ed. 1645, 'content;' 1673, concent.' Warton.
12 And Cherubim, sweet winged Squires.' So Cant. MS.
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 Heav'n, till God ere long To his celestial consort us unite,
To live with him, and sing in endless morn of light.
AN EPITAPH ON THE MARCHIONESS OF
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 had told; alas too soon,
After so short 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 strife
In giving limit to her life.
20 nature's chime] Jonson's Epithal. vol. vii. 2.
To do their offices in nature's chime. Warton.
Her high birth, and her graces sweet
Quickly found a lover meet;
The virgin quire for her request
The God that sits 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 cyprus bud.
Once had the early matrons run
To greet her of a lovely son,
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,
19 He] See Ov. Metam. x. 4.
• Adfuit ille quidem : sed nec solennia verba, Nec lætos vultus, nec felix attulit omen : Fax quoque, quam tenuit, lacrymoso stridula fumo, Usque fuit, nullosque invenit motibus ignes.' Jortin. 33 womb] Browne's Brit. Past. b. ii. s. 1. ed. 1616. "Where never plowshare ript his mother's wombe To give an aged seede a living tombe,
Pluck'd up by some unheedy swain,
Who only thought to crop the flow'r
New shot up from vernal show'r;
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 travail sore
Sweet rest seize thee evermore,
That to give the world increase,
Shorten'd hast 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 hearse, to strew the ways,
Sent thee from the banks of Came,
Devoted to thy virtuous name;
Whilst thou, bright Saint, high sitt'st in glory,
Next her, much like to thee in story,
That fair Syrian shepherdess,
Who after years of barrenness,
47 Lady] Cymbeline, act iv. sc. 2.
'Quiet consummation have,
And renowned be thy grave!' Warton.