Yet more; the ftroke of death he must abide, 20 Then lies him meekly down fast by his brethrens fide. gniw nuIV.

wi wa These latest scenes confine my roving verfe,:{ To this horizon is my Phoebus bound outd His Godlike acts, and his temptations fierce,

And former fufferings other where are found;c 25 Loud o'er the reft Cremona's trump doth found; A

Me fefter airs befit, and fofter strings ro duty Oflute, son viol still, more apt for mournful things. I

Befriend me Night, beft patronefs of grief,q foM
Over the pole thy thickeft mantle throw, rodri36
And work my flatter'd fancy to belief,

That Heav'n and Earth are color'd with my woe; li
My forrows are too dark for day to know:ab tadT
The leaves should all be black whereon I write,
And letters where my tears have wash'd a wannith
whiteliugo

VI.

See, fee the chariot, and those rushing wheels,
That whirl'd the Prophet up at Chebar flood,
My spirit fome tranfporting Cherub feels,

To bear me where the tow'rs of Salem ftood,

Once glorious tow'rs, now funk in guiltlefs blood; There doth my foul in holy vision fit

In penfive trance, and anguifh, and ecftatic fit.

Mine

VII.

39

eye hath found that fad fepulchral rock That was the casket of Heav'n's richest store, And here though grief my feeble hands up lock, 45 Yet on the foften'd quarry would I score

My plaining verfe as lively as before;

For fure fo well inftructed are my tears,

That they would fitly fall in order'd characters.
VIII.

Or should I thence hurried on viewless wing,

Take

up a weeping on the mountains wild, The gentle neighbourhood of grove and spring

37. That whirl'd the prophet up at Chebar food,] As the prophet Ezekiel faw the vifion of the four wheels and of the glory of God at

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Would

the river Chebar, and was carried in the fpirit to Jerufalem; fo the poet fancies himself transported to the fame place.

Would foon unbofom all their echoes mild,
And I (for grief is eafily beguil❜d)

Might think th' infection of my forrows loud 55

Had

got a race of mourners on fome pregnant cloud.

This fubject the Author finding to be above the years he had, when he wrote it, and nothing fatisfied with what was begun, left it unfinish'd.

FLY

LY envious Time, till thou run out thy race, Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours, Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace; And glut thyself with what thy womb devours, Which is no more than what is false and vain,

5

And merely mortal drofs;

So little is our lofs,

So little is thy gain,

For when as each thing bad thou haft intomb'd,
And laft of all thy greedy felf confum'd,

In thefe poems where no date is prefix'd, and no circumstances direct us to afcertain the time when they were compos'd, we follow the order

ΙΟ

Then long Eternity fhall greet our bliss

With an individual kiss;

And Joy fhall overtake us as a flood,

When every thing that is fincerely good

And perfectly divine,

With truth, and peace, and love, fhall ever shine

About the fupreme throne

Of him, t' whose happy-making fight alone

When once our heav'nly-guided foul shall clime,
Then all this earthy grofnefs quit,

Attir'd with stars, we fhall for ever fit,

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Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee,

O Time.

VI.

Upon the CIRCUMCISION.

E flaming Pow'rs, and winged Warriors bright

Y That end with mufic, and triumphant fong,

erft

First heard by happy watchful shepherds ear,

18.-happy-making fight,] The

plain English of beatific vifion.

15. O more exceeding love or law more juft?

So

Juft la indeed, but more exceeding love!] Virgil. Ecl. VIII. 49.

Crudelis mater magis, an puer improbus ille?

Improbus

5

So fweetly fung your joy the clouds along
Through the soft filence of the lift'ning night;
Now mourn, and if fad fhare with us to bear
Your fiery effence can diftil 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 feife!

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

Were loft in death, till he that dwelt above
High thron'd in fecret blifs, for us frail duft
Emptied his glory, ev'n to nakedness;
And that great covenant which we ftill tranfgrefs
Entirely fatisfied,

Improbus ille puer: crudelis tu quoque mater. Richardfon. 20. Emptied his glory, ] An expreffion taken from Philipp. II. 7.

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