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Find out his power which wildest powers doth tame, | There burst he forth. All ye whose hopes rely
His providence extending every where,

On God, with me amidst these deserts mourn,
His justice, which proud rebels doth not spare, Repent, repent, and from old errours turn.”
In every page, no period of the same:

Who listen’d to his voice, obey'd his cry?
But silly we, like foolish children, rest

Only the echoes, which he made relent,
Well pleas'd with colour'd vellum, leaves of gold, Rung from their flinty caves, “ Repent, repent.”
Fair dangling ribbands, leaving what is best,
On the great writer's sense ne'er taking hold;
Or if by chance we stay our minds ou aught,

“ These eyes, dear Lord, once tapers desire, It is some picture on the margin wrought.

Frail scouts betraying what they had to keep,
Which their own heart, then others set on fire,

Their trait'rous black before thee here out-weep;
The grief was common, common were the cries,

These locks of blushing deeds, the gilt attire, Tears, sobs, and groans of that afflicted train,

Waves curling, wreckful shelves to shadow deep,
Which of God's chosen did the sum contain,

Rings, wedding souls to sin's lethargic sleep,
And Earth rebounded with them, pierc'd were skies; To touch thy sacred feet do now aspire.
All good had left the world, each vice did reign In seas of care behold a sinking bark,
In the most monstrous sorts Hell could devise, By winds of sharp remorse unto thee driven:
And all degrees and each estate did stain,

O let me not be ruin's aim'd-at mark;
Nor further had to go whom to surprise ;

My faults confess'd, Lord, say they are forgiven."
The world beneath, the prince of darkness lay, Thus sigh'd to Jesus the Bethanian fair,
And in each temple had himself installid,

His tear-wet feet still drying with her hair.
Was sacrific'd unto, by prayers callid,
Responses gave, which, fools, they did obey;
When, pitying man, God of a virgin's womb
Was born, and those false deities struck dumb. “ I CHANGED countries new delights to find,

But, ah ! for pleasure I did find new pain;

Enchanting pleasure so did reason blind, "Runshepherds, run, where Bethlem blest appears;

That father's love and words I scorn'd as vain. We bring the best of news, be not dismay'd,

For tables rich, for bed, for following train A Saviour there is born, more old than years,

Of careful servants to observe my mind; Amidst the rolling Heaven this Earth who stay'd;

These herds I keep my fellows are assign'd, In a poor cottage inn'd, a virgin maid,

My bed's a rock, and herbs my life sustain. A weakling did him bear who all upbears;

Now while I famine feel, fear worser barms, There he in clothes is wrapp'd, in mnanger laid,

Father and Lord, I turn, thy love, yet great,
To whom too narrow swadlings are our spheres.

My faults will pardon, pity mine estate.”
Run, shepherds, run, and solemnize his birth; This, where an aged oak bad spread its arms,
This is that night, no day, grown great with bliss,

Thought the lost child, while as the herds he led,
In which the power of Satan broken is;

And pin'd with hunger, on wild acorns fed.
In Heaven be glory; peace unto the Earth :"
Thus singing through the air the angels swam,
And all the stars re-echoed the same.

If that the world doth in amaze remain,
To hear in wbat a sad, deploring mood,

The pelican pours from her breast her blood,
O than the fairest day, thrice fairer night, To bring to life her younglings back again;
Night to best days, in which a sun doth rise, How should we wonder at that sovereign good,
Of which the golden eye which clears the skies Who from that serpent's sting that had us slain,
Is but a sparkling ray, a shadow light;

To save our lives, shed his life's purple flood,
And blessed ye, in silly pastors' sight,

And turn'd to endless joy our endless pain ! Mild creatures, in whose warm crib now lies

Ungrateful soul, that charm'd with false delight, That heaven-sent youngling, holy-maid-born wight, Hast long, long wander'd in sin's flow'ry path, 'Midst, end, beginning of our prophecies :

And didst not think at all, or thought'st not right Blest cottage, that hath flow'rs in winter spread;

On this thy pelican's great love and death. (see
Though wither’d, blessed grass, that hath the grace Here pause, and let (though Earth it scorn) Heaven
To deck and be a carpet to that place."

Thee pour forth tears to him pour'd blood for thee.
Thus singing to the sounds of oaten reed,
Before the babe the shepherds bow'd their knees,
And springs ran nectar, honey dropp'd from trees.

If in the east when you do there behold

Forth from his crystal bed the Sun to rise,

With rosy robes and crown of flaming gold;
« The last and greatest herald of Heaven's king, If gazing on that empress of the skies
Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild, That takes so many forms, aud those fair brands
Among that savage brood the woods forth bring, Which blazein Heaven's high vault, night's watch-
Which he more harmless found than man, and mild.
His food was locusts, and what there doth spring, If seeing how the sea's tumultuous bands
With honey that from virgin hives distillid;

Of bellowing billows have their course confind;
Parch'd body, hollow eyes, some uncouth thing How unsustain'd the Earth still stedfast stands;
Made him appear, long since from Earth exil'd. Poor mortal wights, you e'er found in your mind

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ful eyes ;

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A thought, that some great king did sit above, When days are done, and life's small spark is spect,

Who had such laws and rites to them assign'd; So you accept what freely here is given,
A king who fix'd the poles, made spheres to move, Like brood of angels deathless, all-coutent,

All wisdom, pureness, excellency, might, Ye shall for ever live with bim in Heaven,
All goodness, greatness, justice, beauty, love;-
With fear and wonder hither turn your sight,
See, see, alas ! him now, not in that state

Come forth, come forth, ye blest triumphing banda, Thought could forecast him into reason's light.

Fair citizens of that immortal town ; Now eyes with tears, now hearts with grief make Come see that king which all this all commards,

great, Bemoan this cruel death and ruthful case,

Now, overcharg'd with lore, die for his own : If ever plaints just woe could aggravate :

Look on those nails, which pierce his feet and hands; From sin and Hell to save us human race,

What a sharp diadem his brows doth crown! See this great king nail'd to an abject tree,

Behold his pallid face, his heavy frown,

And what a throng of thieves him mocking stands' An object of reproach and sad disgrace.

Come forth, ye empyrean troops, come forth, O unheard pity! love in strange degree!

Preserve this sacred blood that Eartb adorns, He bis own life doth give, his blood doth shed,

Gather those liquid roses off his thoros; For wormlings base such worthiness to see.

0! to be lost they be of too much worth: Poor wights ! behold his visage pale as lead,

For streams, juice, balm, they are, which querch, His head bow'd to his breast, locks sadly rent,

kills, charms, Like a cropp'd rose, that languishing, doth fade. Of God, Death, Hell, the wrath, the life, the harus Weak nature, weep! astonish'd world, lament! Lament, you winds ! you Heaven, that all con

tains ! And tho'i, my soul, let nought thy griefs relent! Soul, whom Hell did once inthral, Those hands, those sacred hands, which hold the reins He, he for thine offence

Of this great all, and kept from mutual wars Did suffer death, who could not die at all.

The elements, bare rent for thee their veins : O sovereign excellence ! Those feet, which once must tread on golden stars,

O life of all that lives ! For thee with nails would be pierc'd through and Eternal bounty which each good thing gives! torn;

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How could Death mount so higb?
For thee Heaven's king from JIcaven himself de- No wit this point can reach,
This great heart-quaking dolour wail and mourn,

Faith only doth as teach,
Ye that long since him saw by night of faith,

He died for us at all who could not die.
Ye now that are, and ye yet to be born.
Not to bebold his great Creator's death,

The Sun from sinful eyes hath veil'd his light,
And faintly journies up Heaven's sapphire pa:b; And Death display'd hath ensign against Death;

Life, to give life, deprived is of life,
And cutting from her prows her tresses bright

So violent the rigour was of Death, The Moon doth keep her Lord's sad obsequies,

That nought could daunt it but the Life of Life: Impearling with her tears her robe of night; All staggering and lazy lour the skies;

No power had power to thrall life's pow'rs to death, The earth and elemental stages quake;

But willingly life down hath laid his life.

Love The long-since dead from bursted graves arise.

gave the wound which wrought this work of

And can things, wanting sense, yet sorrow take,
And bear a part with him who all them wrought; Now quakes the author of eternal death,

His bow and shafts were of the tree of life.
And man (though born with cries) shall pity lack?
Think what had been your state, had he not brought Shall fill his room above the lists of death;

To find that they whoin late he reft of life,
To these sharp pangs himself, and priz'd so bigh
Your souls, that with his life them life he bought!

Now all rejoice in death who hope for life.
What woes do yon attend, if still ye lie

Dead Jesus lives, who Death hath kill'd by Death; Plung'd in your wonted ordures! Wretched brood!

No tomb his tomb is, but new source of life.
Shall for your sake again God ever die?
O leave deluding shows, embrace true good,

He on you calls, forego sin's shameful trade; Rise from those fragrant climes, thee now embrace;
With prayers now seek Heaven, and not with Unto this world of ours, O haste thy race,

Fair Sun, and though contrary ways all year Let not the lambs more from their dams be had, Thou hold thy course, now with the highest share,

Nor altars blush for sin; live every thing; Join thy blue wheels to hasten time that low rs,

That long time long'd-for sacrifice is made. And lazy minutes turn to perfect hours;
All that is from you crav'd by this great king The night and death too long a league hare made,
Is to believe: a pure heart incense is.

To stow the world in horrour's ugly shade.
What gift, alas ! can we him meaner bring? Shake from thy locks a day with saffron rays
Haste, sin-sick souls ! this seasou do not miss, So fair, that it outshine all other days;
Now while remorseless time doth grant you and yet do not presume, great eye of light,

To be that which this day must make so bright.
And God invites you to your only bliss:

See an eternal Sun bastes to arise ; He who you calls will not deny you grace,

Not from the eastern blushing seas or skies, But low-deep bury faults, so ye repent;

Or any stranger worlds Heaven's concaves hare, His arms, lo! stretched are, you to embrace.. But from the

darkness of an hollow grave.

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And this is that all-powerful Sun above {move. | Stern executioner of heavenly doom,
That crown'd thy brows with rays, first made thee Made fruitful, now life's mother art become;
Light's trumpeters, ye need not from your bow'rs A sweet relief of cares the soul molest;
Proclaim this day; this the augelic pow'rs An harbinger to glory, peace and rest :
Have done for you: but now an opal hue

Put off thy mourning weeds, yield all thy gall
Bepaints Heaven's crystal to the longing view: To daily sinning life, proud of thy fall;
Earth's late-hid colours shine, ligbt doth adorn Assemble all thy captives, haste to rise,
The world, and, weeping joy, forth comes the morn; And every corse, in earthquakes where it lies,
And with her, as from a lethargic trance

Sound from each flowry grave and rocky jail:
The breath return'd, that bodies doth advance, Hail, holy victor! greatest victor, bail!
Which two sad nights in rock lay coffin'd dead, The world, that wanning late and faint did lie,
And with an iron guard environed :

Applauding to our joys, thy victory,
Life out of death, light out of darkness springs, To a young prime essays to turn again,
From a base jail forth comes the King of kings; And as ere soild with sin yet to remain ;
What late was mortal, thrall’d to every woe Her chilling agues she begins to miss ;
That lackeys life, or upon sense doth grow,

All bliss returning with the Lord of bliss.
Immortal is, of an eternal stamp,

With greater light, Heaven's temples opened shine;
Far brighter beaming than the morning lamp. Morns smiling rise, evens blushing do decline,
So from a black eclipse out-peers the Sun : Clouds dappled glister, boist’rous winds are calm,
Such (when her course of days have on her run, Soft zephyrs do the fields with sighs embalm,
In a far forest in the pearly east,

In silent calms the sea hath hush'd his roars,
And she herself hath burnt, and spicy nest,) And with enamour'd curls doth kiss the shores;
The lovely bird with youthful pens and comb, All-bearing Earth, like a new-married queen,
Doth soar from out her cradle and her tomb: Her beauties heightens, in a gown of green
So a small seed that in the earth lies hid,

Perfumes the air, her meads are wrought with flow'rs,
And dies, reviving bursts her cloddy side,

In colours various, figures, smelling, pow'rs; Adorn'd with yellow locks anew is born,

Trees wanton in the groves with leavy locks,
And doth become a mother great with corn;

Here hills enameli'd stand, the vales, the rocks,
Of grains brings hundreds with it, which when old Ring peals of joy, here floods and prattling brooks,
Enrich the furrows, which do float with gold. (Stars' liquid mirrors) with serpenting crooks,
Hail, boly victor! greatest victor, hail !

And whispering murmurs, sound unto the main,
That Hell doth ransack, against Death prevail. The golden age returned is again.
0! how thou long'd for com'st! With joyful cries, The honey people leave their golden bow'rs,
The all-triumphing palatines of skies

And innocently prey on budding flow'rs;
Salute thy rising; Earth would joys no more In gloomy shades, perch'd on the tender sprays,
Bear, if thou rising didst them not restore.

The painted singers fill the air with lays:
A silly tomb should not his Aesh enclose,

Seas, floods, earth, air, all diversely do sound, Who did Heaven's trembling terrasses dispose; Yet all their diverse notes hath but one ground, No monument should such a jewel hold,

Re-echo'd here down from Heaven's azure vail; No rock, though ruby, diamond, and gold.

Hail, holy victor! greatest victor, hail! Thou didst lament and pity human race,

O day, on which Death's adamantine chain Bestowing on us of thy free-given grace

The Lord did break, did ransack Satan's reign, More than we forfeited and losed first,

And in triumphing pomp his trophies rear'd,
In Eden rebels when we were accurst.

Be thou blest ever, henceforth still endear'd
Then Earth our portion was, Earth's joys but given, With name of his own day, the law to grace,
Earth, and Earth's bliss, thou hast exchang’d with Types to their substance yield, to thee give place

The old new-moons, with all festival days;
O! what a height of good upon us streams And, what above the rest deserveth praise,
From the great splendour of thy bounty's beams! The reverend sabbath: what could else they be
When we deserv'd shame, horrour, flames of wrath, Than golden heralds, telling what by thee
Thou bled'st our wounds, and suffer didst our death: We should enjoy? Shades past, now shine thou
But Father's justice pleas'd, Hell, Death, o'ercome,

In triumph now thou riseth from thy tomb, And henceforth be thou empress of the year,
With glories, which past sorrows countervail ; This glory of thy sister's sex to win,
Hail, holy victor! greatest victor, hail !

Prom work on thee, as other days from sin, Hence, humble sense, and hence ye guides of That mankind shall forbear, in every place sense!

The prince of planets warmeth in his race,
We now reach Heaven; your weak intelligence And far beyond his paths in frozen climes :
And searching pow'rs were in a flash made dim, And may thou be so blest to out-date times,
To learn from all eternity, that him

That when Heaven's choir shall blaze in accents loud
The Father bred, then that he here did come The many mercies of their sovereign good,
(His bearer's parent) in a virgiu's womb: [thorn, How he on thee did Sin, Death, Hell destroy,
But then when sold, betray'd, crown'd, scourg'd with It may be still the burthen of their joy.
Nail'd to a tree, all breathless, bloodless, torn,
Entomb'd, bim risen from a grave to find,
Confounds your cunning, turns,like moles, you blind.
Death, thou that heretofore still barren wast, BENEATH a sable veil, and shadows deep,
Nay, didst each other birth eat up and waste, Of inaccessible and dimming light,
Imperious, hateful, pitiless, unjust,

In silence ebon clouds more black than night,
Uopartial equaller of all with dust,

The world's great Mind his secrets bid doth keep:

Through those thick mists when any mortal wight
Aspires, with halting pace, and eyes that weep
To pry, and in his mysteries to creep.
With thunders he and lightnings blasts their sight. Way, wordlings, do ye trust frail honour's dreams,
O Sun invisible, that dost abide

And lean to gilded glories which decay ?
Within thy bright abysmes, most fair, most dark, Why do ye toil to registrate your names
Where with thy proper rays thou dost thee hide,

On icy pillars, which soon melt away? O ever-shining, never full-seen mark,

True honour is not here, that place it claims To guide me in life's night, thy light me show;

Where black-brow'd night doth not exile the day, The more I search of thee the less I know.

Nor no far-shining lamp dives in the sea,
But an eternal Sun spreads lasting beams;
There it attendeth you, where spotless bands

Of sp'rits stand gazing on their sovereigo bliss, Ir with such passing beauty, choice delights, Where years not hold it in their cank'ring hands, The Architect of this great round did frame

But who once noble, ever poble is. This palace visible, short lists of fame,

Look home, lest he your weaken'd wit make thrall, And silly mansion but of dying wights ;

Who Eden's foolish gard'ner erst made fall.
How many wonders, what amazing lights
Must that triumphing seat of glory claim,
That doth transcend all this all's vasty heights,
Of whose bright Sun, ours here is but a beam ! As are those apples, pleasant to the eye,
O blest abode ! O happy dwelling-place!

But full of smoke within, which use to grow
Where visibly th' Invisible doth reign;

Near that strange lake where God pour'd from the Blest people, which do see true Beauty's face,

sky With whose far shadows scarce he Earth doth deign: Iluge show'rs of fames, worse flames to overtbrox : All joy is but annoy, all concord strife,

Such are their works that with a glaring shor Match'd with your endless bliss and happy life. Of bumble holiness in virtue's dye

Would colour mischief, while within they glor

With coals of sin, though none the smoke descry. Love which is here a care,

Bad is that angel that erst fell from Heaven; That wit and will doth mar,

But not so bad as he, nor in worse case, Uncertain truce, and a most certain war;

Who hides a trait'rous mind with smiling fare, A shrill tempestuous wind,

And with a dore's white feathers clothes a ravee, Which doth disturb the mind,

Each sin some colour bath it to adorn,
And like wild waves all our designs commove;

Hypocrisy Almighty God doth scorn.
Ainong those powers above,
Which see their maker's face,
It a contentment is, a quiet peace,

New doth the Sun appear,
A pleasure void of grief, a constant rest,

The mountains' snows decay, Eternal joy, which nothing can molest.

Crown'd with frail flow'rs forth comes the infact


My soul, time posts away, That space, where curled waves do now divide

And thou, yet in that frost From the great continent our happy isle,

Which flow'r and fruit hath lost, Was sometime land; and now where ships do glide, As if all here immortal were, dost stay: Once with laborious art the plough did toil : For shame! thy powers awake, Once those fair bounds stretch'd out so far and wide, Look to that Heaven which never night makes Where towns, no shires enwalla, endear each mile,

black, Were all ignoble sea and marish vile,

And there at that immortal Sun's bright rays, Where Proteus' Aocks danc'd measures to the tide: Deck thee with flow'rs, which fear not rage of days So age transforming all, still forward runs ; No wonder though the Earth doth change her face, New marners, pleasures new, turn with new suns, Locks now like gold grow to an hoary grace; Nay, mind's rare shape doth chaoge, that lies de- far from the clamorous world, doth live bis orn

THRICE happy he who by some shady grore,
Which was so dear of late, and highly priz'd.

Though solitary, who is not alone,
But doth converse with that eternal lore.
O how more sweet is birds' harmonious moan,

Or the hoarse sobbings of the widow'd dore,
This world a hunting is,

Than those smooth whisp'rings near a prince's The prey, poor mau; the Nimrod fierce, is Death; throne, His speedy grey hounds are,

Which good make doubtful, do the evil approre ! Lust, Sickness, Envy, Care;

0! how more sweet is zephyrs' wholesome breath, Strife that ne'er falls amiss,

And sighs embalın'd, which new-born flow'ns upWith all those ills which haunt us while we breathe. fold, Now, if by chance we fly

Than that applause vain honour doth bequeath! Of these the eager chace,

How sweet are streams to poison drank in gold! Old age with stealing pace

The world is full of horrours, troubles, slights: Casts on his nets, and there we panting die. Woods' barmless shades have only true deligbts


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« World-wand'ring sorry wights,

Whom nothing can content
Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours Within these varying lists of days and nights,
Of winters past, or coming, void of care,

Whose life, ere known amiss,
Well pleased with delights which present are, . In glittring griefs is spent,
Pair seasons, budding sprays, sweet-smelling flow'rs: Come learn,” said she, “what is your choicest bliss :
To rocks, to springs, to rills, from leavy bow'rs
Thou thy Creator's goodness dost declare,

“ From toil and pressing cares And what dear gifts on thee he did not spare,

How ye may respite find, A stain to human sense in sin that low'rs.

A sanctuary from soul-thralling snares; What soul can be so sick, which by thy songs

A port to barbour sure, (Attir'd in sweetness) sweetly is not driven

In spite of waves and wind,
Quite to forget Earth's turmoils, spites, and wrongs, Which shall when time's swift glass is run, endure,
And lift a reverend eye and thought to Heaven?
Street, artless songster, thou my mind dost raise “ Not happy is that life
To airs of spheres, yes, and to angels' lays.

Which you as happy hold,
No, but a sea of fears, a field of strife,

Charg'd on a throne to sit
As when it happeneth that some lovely town

With diadems of gold,
Unto a barbarous besieger falls,

Preserv'd by force, and still observ'd by wit,
Who both by sword and fame himself instals,
And shameless it in tears and blood doth drown; “ Huge treasures to enjoy,
Her beauty spoil'd, her citizens made thralls,

Of all her gems spoil Inde,
His spite yet cannot so her all tbrow down, All Seres' silk in garments to employ,
But that some statue, pillar of renown,

Deliciously to feed,
Yet lurks unmaim'd within her weeping walls: The phenix' plumes to find
So after all the spoil, disgrace and wreck, [bin'd, To rest upon, or deck your purple bed.
That time, the world, and death, could bring com-
Amidst that mass of ruins they did make,

“ Frail beauty to abuse, Safe and all scarless yet remains my mind :

And, wanton Sybarites,
From this so high transcendent rapture springs, On past or present touch of sense to muse ;
That I, all else defac'd, not envy kings.

Never to hear of noise

But what the ear delights,

Sweet music's charms, or charming flatterer's voice,
Let us each day inure ourselves to die,
If this, and not our fears, be truly death,

« Nor can it bliss you bring, Above the circles both of hope and faith

Hid nature's depths to know, With fair immortal pinions to fly ;

Why matter changeth, whence each form doth If this be death, our best part to nntie

spring. (By ruining the jail) from lust and wrath,

Nor that your fame should range, And every drowsy languor here beneath,

And after-worlds it blow To be made deniz'd citizen of sky;

From Tanais to Nile, from Nile to Gange. To have more knowledge than all books contain, all pleasures even surmounting wishing pow'r,

“ All these have not the pow'r The fellowship of God's immortal train,

To free the mind from fears, And these that time nor force shall e'er devour:

Nor bideous horroar can allay one hour, If this be death, what joy, what golden care

When Death in stealth doth glance,
Of life, can with death's ugliness compare?

In sickness lurks or years,
And wakes the soul from out her mortal trance,

“ No, but blest life is this,
AMIDST the azure clear

With chaste and pure desire
Of Jordan's sacred streams,

To turn unto the load-star of all bliss,
Jordan, of Lebanon the offspring dear,

On God the mind to rest,
When zephyrs flow'rs unclose,

Burnt up with sacred fire,
And Sun shines with new beams,

Possessing him to be by him possest:
With grave and stately grace a nymph arose.
Upon her head she wear

" When to the balmy east
Of amaranths a crown;

Sun doth his light impart,
Her left hand palms, her right a torch did bear;

Or when he diveth in the lowly west,
Unveil'd skin's whiteness lay,

And ravisheth the day,
Gold hairs in curls hung down,

With spotless hand and heart,
Eyes sparkled joy, more bright than star of day.

Him cheerfully to praise, and to him pray:
The flood a throne her rear'd

" To heed each action so
Of waves, most like that Heaven

As ever in his sight,
Where beaming stars in glory turn enspher'd: More fearing doing ill than passive woe ;
The air stood calm and clear,

Not to seem other thing
No sigh by winds was given,

Than what ye are arigbt;
Birds left to sing, herds feed, her voice to hear. Never to do what may repentance bring :


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