And this is that all-powerful Sun above [move.
That crown'd thy brows with rays, first made thee
Light's trumpeters, ye need not from your bow'rs
Proclaim this day; this the angelic pow'rs
Have done for you: but now an opal hue
Bepaints Heaven's crystal to the longing view:
Earth's late-hid colours shine, light doth adorn
The world, and, weeping joy, forth comes the morn;
And with her, as from a lethargic trance
The breath return'd, that bodies doth advance,
Which two sad nights in rock lay coffin'd dead,
And with an iron guard environed:

Life out of death, light out of darkness springs,
From a base jail forth comes the King of kings;
What late was mortal, thrall'd to every woe
That lackeys life, or upon sense doth grow,
Immortal is, of an eternal stamp,

Far brighter beaming than the morning lamp.
So from a black eclipse out-peers the Sun:
Such (when her course of days have on her run,
In a far forest in the pearly east,

And she herself hath burnt, and spicy nest,)
The lovely bird with youthful pens and comb,
Doth soar from out her cradle and her tomb:
So a small seed that in the earth lies hid,
And dies, reviving bursts her cloddy side,
Adorn'd with yellow locks anew is born,
And doth become a mother great with corn;
Of grains brings hundreds with it, which when old
Enrich the furrows, which do float with gold.

Hail, holy victor! greatest victor, hail!
That Heli doth ransack, against Death prevail.
O! how thou long'd for com'st! With joyful cries,
The all-triumphing palatines of skies
Salute thy rising; Earth would joys no more
Bear, if thou rising didst them not restore.
A silly tomb shonid not his flesh enclose,
Who did Heaven's trembling terrasses dispose;
No monument should such a jewel hold,
No rock, though ruby, diamond, and gold.
Thou didst lament and pity human race,
Bestowing on us of thy free-given grace
More than we forfeited and losed first,
In Eden rebels when we were accurst.
Then Earth our portion was, Earth's joys but given,
Earth, and Earth's bliss, thou hast exchang'd with

Heaven.

O! what a height of good upon us streams
From the great splendour of thy bounty's beams!
When we deserv'd shame, horrour, flames of wrath,
Thon bled'st our wounds, and suffer didst our death:
But Father's just ce pleas'd, Hell, Death, o'ercome,
In triumph now thou riseth from thy tomb,
With glories, which past sorrows countervail;
Hail, holy victor! greatest victor, hail!

Stern executioner of heavenly doom,
Made fruitful, now life's mother art become;
A sweet relief of cares the soul molest;
An harbinger to glory, peace and rest:
Put off thy mourning weeds, yield all thy gall
To daily sinning life, proud of thy fall;
Assemble all thy captives, haste to rise,
And every corse, in earthquakes where it lies,
Sound from each flowry grave and rocky jail:
Hall, holy victor! greatest victor, hail!

The world, that wanning late and faint did lie,
Applauding to our joys, thy victory,
To a young prime essays to turn again,
And as ere soil'd with sin yet to remain ;
Her chilling agues she begins to miss ;
All bliss returning with the Lord of bliss.
With greater light, Heaven's temples opened shine;
Morns smiling rise, evens blushing do decline,
Clouds dappled glister, boist'rous winds are calm,
Soft zephyrs do the fields with sighs embalm,
In silent calms the sea hath hush'd his roars,
And with enamour'd curls doth kiss the shores;
All-bearing Earth, like a new-married queen,
Her beauties heightens, in a gown of green
Perfumes the air, her meads are wrought with flow'rs,
In colours various, figures, smelling, pow'rs;
Trees wanton in the groves with leavy locks,
Here hills enamell'd stand, the vales, the rocks,
Ring peals of joy, here floods and prattling brooks,
(Stars' liquid mirrors) with serpenting crooks,
And whispering murmurs, sound unto the main,
The golden age returned is again.

The honey people leave their golden bow'rs,
And innocently prey on budding flow'rs;
In gloomy shades, perch'd on the tender sprays,
The painted singers fill the air with lays:
Seas, floods, earth, air, all diversely do sound,
Yet all their diverse notes hath but one ground,
Re-echo'd here down from Heaven's azure vail;
Hail, holy victor! greatest victor, hail!

O day, on which Death's adamantine chain
The Lord did break, did ransack Satan's reign,
And in triumphing pomp his trophies rear'd,
Be thou blest ever, henceforth still endear'd
With name of his own day, the law to grace,
Types to their substance yield, to thee give place
The old new-moons, with all festival days;
And, what above the rest deserveth praise,
The reverend sabbath: what could else they be
Thau golden heralds, telling what by thee
We should enjoy? Shades past, now shine thou
clear,

And henceforth be thou empress of the year,
This glory of thy sister's sex to win,
From work on thee, as other days from sin,

sense!

We now reach Heaven; your weak intelligence
And searching pow'rs were in a flash made dim,
To learn from all eternity, that him
The Father bred, then that he here did come
(His bearer's parent) in a virgin's womb: [thorn,
But then when sold, betray'd, crown'd, scourg'd with
Nail'd to a tree, all breathless, bloodless, torn,
Entomb'd, him risen from a grave to find,
Confounds your cunning, turns,like moles, you blind.
Death, thou that heretofore still barren wast,
Nay, didst each other birth eat up and waste,
Imperious, hateful, pitiless, unjust,
Unpartial equaller of all with dust,
VOL V.

The prince of planets warmeth in his race,
And far beyond his paths in frozen climes:
And may thou be so blest to out-date times,
That when Heaven's choir shall blaze in accents loud
The many mercies of their sovereign good,
How he on thee did Sin, Death, Hell destroy,
It may be still the burthen of their joy.

BENEATH a sable veil, and shadows deep,
Of inaccessible and dimming light,

In silence ebon clouds more black than night,
The world's great Mind his secrets hid doth keep:

X x

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.

O Sun invisible, that dost abide

Within thy bright abysmes, most fair, most dark, Where with thy proper rays thou dost thee hide, O ever-shining, never full-seen mark,

To guide me in life's night, thy light me show; The more I search of thee the less I know.

Ir with such passing beauty, choice delights,
The Architect of this great round did frame
This palace visible, short lists of fame,
And silly mansion but of dying wights;
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!
O blest abode! O happy dwelling-place!
Where visibly th' Invisible doth reign;
Blest people, which do see true Beauty's face,
With whose far shadows scarce he Earth doth deign:
All joy is but annoy, all concord strife,
Match'd with your endless bliss and happy life.

LOVE which is here a care,
That wit and will doth mar,
Uncertain truce, and a most certain war;
A shrill tempestuous wind,

Which doth disturb the mind,

And like wild waves all our designs commove; Among those powers above,

Which see their maker's face,

It a contentment is, a quiet peace,

A pleasure void of grief, a constant rest,
Eternal joy, which nothing can molest.

THAT space, where curled waves do now divide
From the great continent our happy isle,
Was sometime land; and now where ships do glide,
Once with laborious art the plough did toil:
Once those fair bounds stretch'd out so far and wide,
Where towns, no shires enwall'd, endear each mile,
Were all ignoble sea and marish vile,
Where Proteus' flocks danc'd measures to the tide:
So age transforming all, still forward runs ;
No wonder though the Earth doth change her face,
New manners, pleasures new, turn with new suns,
Locks now like gold grow to an hoary grace;
Nay, mind's rare shape doth change, that lies de-
spis'd

Which was so dear of late, and highly priz'd.

And lean to gilded glories which decay?
WHY, wordlings, do ye trust frail honour's dreams,
Why do ye toil to registrate your names
On icy pillars, which soon melt away?
True honour is not here, that place it claims
Where black-brow'd night doth not exile the day,
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 sovereign bliss,
Where years not hold it in their cank`ring hands,
But who once noble, ever noble is.

Look home, lest he your weaken'd wit make thrall,
Who Eden's foolish gard'ner erst made fall.

As are those apples, pleasant to the eye,
But full of smoke within, which use to grow
Near that strange lake where God pour'd from the
sky

Huge show'rs of flames, worse flames to overthrow:
Such are their works that with a glaring show
Of humble holiness in virtue's dye

Would colour mischief, while within they glow
With coals of sin, though none the smoke descry.
Bad is that angel that erst fell from Heaven;
But not so bad as he, nor in worse case,
Who hides a trait'rous mind with smiling face,
And with a dove's white feathers clothes a raven.
Each sin some colour hath it to adorn,
Hypocrisy Almighty God doth scora.

THRICE happy he who by some shady grove,
Far from the clamorous world, doth live his own,
Though solitary, who is not alone,

But doth converse with that eternal love.
O how more sweet is birds' harmonious mean,
Or the hoarse sobbings of the widow'd dove,
Than those smooth whisp'rings near a prince's
throne,

Which good make doubtful, do the evil approve!
O! how more sweet is zephyrs' wholesome break:
And sighs embalm'd, which new-born flow's 20

fold,

Than that applause vain honour doth bequeath' How sweet are streams to poison drank in gold' The world is full of horrours, troubles, slights: Woods' harmless shades have only true delights.

SWEET bird, that sing'st away the early hours
Of winters past, or coming, void of care,
Well pleased with delights which present are,
Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet-smelling flow'rs:
To rocks, to springs, to rills, from leavy bow'rs
Thou thy Creator's goodness dost declare,
And what dear gifts on thee he did not spare,
A stain to human sense in sin that low'rs.
What soul can be so sick, which by thy songs
(Attir'd in sweetness) sweetly is not driven
Quite to forget Earth's turmoils, spites, and wrongs,
And lift a reverend eye and thought to Heaven?
Sweet, artless songster, thou my mind dost raise
To airs of spheres, yes, and to angels' lays.

As when it happeneth that some lovely town
Unto a barbarous besieger falls,

Who both by sword and flame himself instals,
And shameless it in tears and blood doth drown;
Her beauty spoil'd, her citizens made thralls,
His spite yet cannot so her all throw down,
But that some statue, pillar of renown,
Yet lurks unmaim'd within her weeping walls:
So after all the spoil, disgrace and wreck, [bin'd,
That time, the world, and death, could bring com-
Amidst that mass of ruins they did make,
Safe and all scarless yet remains my mind:
= From this so high transcendent rapture springs,
That I, all else defac'd, not envy kings.

LET us each day inure ourselves to die,
If this, and not our fears, be truly death,
Above the circles both of hope and faith
With fair immortal pinions to fly;
If this be death, our best part to untie
(By ruining the jail) from lust and wrath,
And every drowsy languor here beneath,
To be made deniz'd citizen of sky;

To have more knowledge than all books contain,
All pleasures even surmounting wishing pow'r,
The fellowship of God's immortal train,
And these that time nor force shall e'er devour :
If this be death, what joy, what golden care
Of life, can with death's ugliness compare?

=That destine doth reward to ill and good:
But sway of Justice is by Love withstood,
Which did it not relent, and mildly stay,
This world ere now had found its funeral day.
What bands, encluster'd, near to these abide,
Which into vast infinity them hide!
Infinity that neither doth admit

Place, time, nor number to encroach on it.
Here Bounty sparkleth, here doth Beauty shine,
Simplicity, more white than gelsomine,
Mercy with open wings, aye-varied Bliss,
Glory, and Joy, that Bliss's darling is.
Ineffable, all-pow'rful God, all free,
Thou only liv'st, and each thing lives by thee;
No joy, no, nor perfection to thee came
By the contriving of this world's great frame:
Ere Sun, Moon, stars began their restless race,
Ere painted was with light Heaven's pure face,
Ere air had clouds, ere clouds wept down their
show'rs,

Ere sea embraced earth, ere earth bare flow'rs,
Thou happy liv'dst; world nought to thee supply'd,
All in thyself thyself thou satisfy'd:
Of good no slender shadow doth appear,
No age-worn track, which shin'd in thee not clear,
Perfection's sum, prime cause of every cause,
Midst, end, beginning where all good doth pause:
Hence of thy substance, differing in nought,
Thou in eternity thy son forth brought;
The only birth of thy unchanging mind,
Thine image, pattern-like that ever shin'd;
Light out of light, begotten not by will,
But nature, all and that same essence still
Which thou thyself, for thou dost nought possess
Which he hath not, in aught nor is he less
Thau thee his great begetter; of this light,
Eternal, double-kindled was thy spright
Eternally, who is with thee the same,
All-holy gift, ambassador, knot, flame:
Most sacred Triad, O most holy One!
Unprocreate Father, ever procreate Son,
Ghost breath'd from both, you were, are still, shall
(Most blessed) Three in One, and Oue in Three,
Incomprehensible by reachless height,
And unperceived by excessive light.
So in our souls three and yet one are still,
The understanding, memory, and will;
So (though unlike) the planet of the days,
So soon as he was made, begat his rays,
Which are his offspring, and from both was hurl'd
The rosy light which consolates the world,
And none forewent another: so the spring,
The well-head, and the stream which they forth
bring,

Are but one self-same essence, nor in aught
Do differ, save in order; and our thought
No chime of time discerns in them to fall,
But three distinctly 'bide one essence all.
But these express not thee. Who can declare
Thy being? Men and angels dazzled are.
Who would this Eden force with wit or sense,
A cherubin shall find to bar him thence.

[be,

Great Architect, Lord of this universe,
That light is blinded would thy greatness pierce.
Ah! as a pilgrim who the Alps doth pass,
Or, Atlas' temples crown'd with winter glass,
The airy Caucasus, the Apennine,

Pyrenees' clifts where Sun doth never shine,
When he some craggy hills hath overwent,
Begins to think on rest, his journey spent,

Till mounting some tall mountain, he do find
More heights before him than he left behind:
With halting pace so while I would me raise
To the unbounded limits of thy praise,
Some part of way I thought to have o'er-run,
But now I see how scarce I have begun ;
With wonders new my spirits range possest,
And wandering wayless in a maze them rest.

In these vast fields of light, ethereal plains, Thou art attended by immortal trains

Of intellectual pow'rs, which thou brought'st forth
To praise thy goodness, and admire thy worth,
In numbers passing other creatures far,
Since most in number noblest creatures are,
Which do in knowledge us not less outrun
Than Moon in light doth stars, or Moon the Sun;
Unlike, in orders rang'd and many a band,
(If beauty in disparity doth stand)
Archangels, angels, cherubs, seraphines,
And what with name of thrones amongst them shines,
Large-ruling princes, dominations, pow'rs,
All-acting virtues of those flaming tow'rs:
These freed of umbrage, these of labour free,
Rest ravished with still beholding thee;
Inflam'd with beams which sparkle from thy face,
They can no more desire, far less embrace.

[state,

Low under them, with slow and staggering pace Thy hand-maid Nature thy great steps doth trace, The source of second causes' golden chain, That links this frame as thou it doth ordain. Nature gaz'd on with such a curious eye, That earthlings oft her deem'd a deity. By Nature led, those bodies fair and great, Which faint not in their course, nor change their Unintermix'd, which no disorder prove, Though aye and contrary they always move, The organs of thy providence divine, Books ever open, signs that clearly shine; Time's purpled maskers then do them advance, As by sweet music in a measur'd dance; Stars, host of Heaven, ye firmaments, bright flow'rs, Clear lamps which overhang this stage of ours, Ye turn not there to deck the weeds of night, Nor, pageant like, to please the vulgar sight: Great causes, sure ye must bring great effects; But who can descant right your grave aspects? He only who you made decypher can Your notes; Heaven's eyes, ye blind the eyes of man.

Amidst these sapphire far-extending heights, The never-twinkling, ever wand'ring lights Their fixed motions keep; one dry and cold, Deep-leaden colour'd, slowly there is roll'd, With rule and line for Time's steps meeting even, In twice three lustres he but turns his heaven. With temperate qualities and countenance fair, Still mildly smiling, sweetly debonnaire, Another cheers the world, and way doth make In twice six autumns through the zodiac. But hot and dry with flaming locks and brows Enrag'd, this in his red pavilion glows: Together running with like speed, if space, Two equally in hands achieve their race; With blushing face this oft doth bring the day, And ushers oft to stately stars the way; That various in virtue, changing, light, With his small flame impearls the vail of night. Prince of this court, the Sun in triumph rides, With the year snake-like in herself that glides, Time's dispensator, fair life-giving source, Through sky's twelve posts as he doth run his course;