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And Allien Moloch fled, acy

Hath left in fhadows dread

His burning idol all of blackeft hue;
In vain with cymbals' ring
They call the grifly King,

In difmal dance about the furnace blut; 2ie

The brutifh gods of Nile as faft,
Ifis and Orus, and the dog Anubis haflc.


Nor is Ofiris feen

In Memphian grove or green,

Trampling the unfhow'r'd grafe with lowings loud: Nor can he be at reft 2l6

Within his facred cheft,

Nought but profoundeft Hell can be his fhroud; In vain with timbrel'd anthems dark The fable-Moled forcerers bear his worfhipt ark. 4JO

XXV. He feeU from Judah's land The dreaded Infant's hand,

The rays of Bethlehem blind his dulky eyn; Nor all the gods befide, Longer dare abide, 425

Not Typhon huge ending in fnaky twine: Our Bahe, to fhew his Godhead true, Can in his fwadling bands control the damned crew.

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So when the fun in bed,
Curtain'd with cloudy red, 430

Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,
The flocking fhadows pale
Troop to the infernal jail, .

Each fetter'd ghoft .flips toiris feveral grave,
And the yellow-flurted. Fayes 235

Fly after the night-fteeds, leaving their moon-lov'd
XXVO. [maze.

But fee the Virgin bleft
Hath laid her Babe to reft,

Time is our tedious fong fhonld here have ending:
Heav'n's youngeft teemed ftar 040

Hath fixt her polifh'd car,

Her fieepingLord with handmaid lamp attending:
And all about the courtly ftable
Brigbt-harhefs'd angels fit in order ferviceable.

IV. The Paffion.


Erewhile of mufic, and ethereal mirth,

Wherewith the ftage of air and earth did ring,

And joyous news of heav'nly Infant's birth,

My Mnfe with angels did divide to fing;

But headlong joy is ever on the wing, 5

In wintry folftice like the fhortcn'd light Soon fwallow'd up in dark and long out-living night, a


For now tomorrow muftI taae my foag,
And fet my harp to -notes of liddeft woe,
Which< on our etea reft Lord did feife ere long, 10
Dangers, and Shares, and wrongs, and worfe than fo,
Which he for us did freely undergo i

Moft-perfeift Hero try^d in heavieft plight
Of laboreiogeand hard, too hard for human wight!

He fovtsn Pried Hooping his regal head, %j

That dropt with odorous oil down his fair eyes,
Poor flcfhly t,«bernacle entered,
His ftatry-front low«robft beneath the&ies;
0 what a mafk was there, what a difguife!

Yet more; theftroke of death.he muf t abide, to Then lieshim srcekly-down faftbyhisfcrettaen's fide,

IV. Thefc lateft fcenes confine my roving verfe, To this horizon is my Phcebus bound; His godlikeafts, and his temptations fierce, And former fufferings other where are found; if Loud o'er the reft Cremona's trump doth found;

Me fofterairs befit, and fofter ftrings
Of lute, of viol .Ml, more apt for mournful things.

Befriend me Night, beft patronefs of griefj
Over the pole thy thickeft mantle throw,

Volumt IV. C


And work my flatter'd fancy to belief,

That Heav'n and Earth are color'd with my woe;

My forrows are too dark for day to know:

The leaves fhould all be black whereon I write, 34 And letterswhere mytearshave wafh'd a wannifhwhite.

See, fee the chariot, and thofe rufhing wheels,
That whirl'd the prophet up at Chebar flood,
My fpirit fome tranfporting cherub feels,
To bear me where the towers of Salem flood,
Once glorious towers, now funk in guiltlefs blood; 40

There doth my foul in holy vifion fit
In penfive trance, and anguifti, and ecftatic fit.

Mine eye hath found that fad fepulchral rock
That was the calket of Heav'n's richeft ftore,
And here though grief my feeble hands uplock, 45
Yet on the foften'd quarry would I fcore
My plaining verfe as lively as before;

For fure fo well inftrufted are my tears,
That they would fitly fall in order'd charafters.

Or fhould I thence hurried on viewlefs wing, 50

Take up a weeping on the mountains wild,'

The gentle neighbourhood of grove and fpring
Would foon unbofom all their echoes mild,
And I (for grief is eafily beguil'd)

Might think th' infeftion of my forrows loud 55 Had got a race of mourners on fome pregnant cloud. [ThisfubjeB the Author finding ta be ahove the years he had,

-when he -wrote it, and nothing fatisfied with -what was

begun, left it unfinified.']

V. On Time.

Fly envious Time, till thou run out thy race,

Call on the lazy leaden-ftepping Hours,

Whofe fpeed is but the heavy plummet's pace;

And glut thyfelf with what thy womb devours,

Which is no more than what is falfe 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, 10

Then long Eternity fhall greet our blifs

With an individual kifs;

And joy fhall overtake us as a flood,

When every thing that is fincerely good

And perfeftly divine, 15

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

About the fupreme throne

Of him, to' whofe happy-making fight alone

When once our heav'nly-guided foul fhall clime,

Then all this earthy groffncfs quit, 40

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

Triumphing ovcrDeath,and Chance,and t hee, OTime.

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