« PreviousContinue »
In confecrated Earth,
Th' Lares and Lemures moan with midnight plaint; In Urns, and Altars round,
A drear and dying found
Affrights the Flamins at their fervice quaint;
While each peculiar Pow'r forgoes his wonted feat.
Peor and Baalim
Forfake their Temples dim,
With that twice batter'd god of Palestine;
Now fits not girt with Taper's holy shine;
In vain the Tyrian Maids their wounded Thammuz
And fullen Moloch fled,
His burning Idol all of blackeft hue;
In difmal dance about the furnace blue;
Ifis and Orus, and the Dog Anubis, hafte.
Nor is Ofiris feen,
In Memphian Grove, or Green,
Trampling the unfhowr'd Grafs with lowings loud: Nor can he be at reft
Within his facred cheft;
Nought but profoundest Hell can be his fhroud: In vain with timbrel'd Anthems dark
The fable-stoled Sorc'rers bear his worshipp'd Ark.
He feels from Juda's Land
The of Bethlehem blind his dufky eyn;
Longer dare abide,
Not Typhon huge ending in fnaky twine: Our Babe, to fhew his Godhead true,
Can in his fwadling bands controul the damned crew.
So when the Sun in bed,
Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,
Each fetter'd Ghoft flips to his several grave;
And the yellow-fkirted Fayes
Fly after the Night-fteeds, leaving their Moon-lov'd maze.
But fee! the Virgin blest
Time is our tedious Song fhould here have ending;
Her fleeping Lord with Handmaid Lamp attending:
Anno ætatis 17.
On the Death of a fair Infant, a Nephew of his, dying of a Cough.
Fairest flower, no fooner blown but blasted,
That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kifs,
Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld,
But all unwares with his cold-kind embrace
But then transform'd him to a purple flower: Alack! that fo to change thee winter had no power. V. Yet can I not perfuade me thou art dead, Or that thy coarfe corrupts in earth's dark womb, Or that thy beauties lie in wormie bed, Hid from the World in a low delved tomb; Could Heav'n for pity thee fo ftrictly doom?
Oh no! for fomething in thy face did fhine Above mortality, that fhew'd thou waft divine. VI.
Refolve me then, oh Soul moft furely bleft,
Wert thou fome Star, which from the ruin'd roof
Of fheenie Heav'n, and thou fome goddess fled, Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head?
Or wert thou that just Maid, who once before
Or that crown'd Matron, fage white-robed Truth?
Let down in cloudy throne to do the World fome good?
Or wert thou of the golden-winged hoft,
And after short abode fly back with speed,
But oh! why didst thou not stay here below
To ftand 'twixt us and our deferved fmart?
Then thou, the Mother of fo fweet a Child,
This if thou do, he will an off-fpring give,
Anno ætatis 19. At a Vacation Exercife in the College, part Latin, part Englifn. The Latin Speeches ended, the English thus began.
native that finews weak
Didft move my firft endeavouring tongue to speak, And mad'ft imperfect words with childish trips, Half unpronounc'd, flide through my infant lips, Driving dumb filence from the portal door, Where he had mutely fat two years before: Here I falute thee, and thy pardon afk, That now I use thee in my latter task: