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E flaming Powers, and winged Warriors bright,

That erst with music, and triumphant fong,
Firft heard by happy watchful shepherds' ear,
So sweetly sung your joy the clouds along
Through the soft silence of the lift'ning night; 5
Now mourn, and if sad share with us to bear
Your fiery essence can distil no tear,
Burn in your sighs, and borrow
Seas wept from our deep sorrow :
He who with all Heav’n’s heraldry whilere 10
Enter’d the world, now bleeds to give us ease;
Alas, how foon our fin
Sore doth begin

His infancy to seize! O

more exceeding love or law more just! 15 Joft law indeed, but more exceeding love! For we by rightful doom remediless Were loft in death, till he that dwelt above High thron’d in secret bliss, for us frail duft Emptied his glory, ev'n to nakedness; And that great covenant which we still transgress Entirely satisfied, And the full wrath beside Of vengeful justice bore for our excess, And seals obedience first with wounding smart This day, but o ere longHuge pangs and strong Will pierce more near his heart.





Wed your

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LEST pair of Syrens, pledges of Heav’n’s joy,
Sphere-born harmonious fifters, Voice and Verse,
divine sounds, and mix'd

power employ Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce, And to our high-rais'd phantafy present

5 That undisturbed song of pure concent, Ay sung before the fapphire-color'd throne To him that fits thereon With faintly shout and folemn jubilee, Where the bright Seraphim in burning row Their loud up-lifted angel-trumpets blow, And the cherubic host in thousand quires Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, With those juft Spirits that wear victorious palms, Hymns devout and holy pfalms Singing everlastingly; That we on earth with undiscording voice May rightly answer that melodious noise; As once we did, till difproportion'd fin Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsa din Broke the fair music that all creatures made To their great Lord, whose love their motion fway'd In perfect diapason, whilst they stood In first obedience, and their state of good. O may we foon again renew that song,

25 And keep in tune with Heav'n, till God ere long To his celestial concert us unite, To live with him, and fing in endless morn of light!






An EPITAPH on the Marchionefs of Winchester*,
HIS rich marble doth inter

The honor'd wife of Winchester,
A Viscount's daughter, an Earl's heis,
Besides what her virtues fair
Added to her noble birth,

More than the could own from earth.
Summers three times eight fave one
She had told; alas too foon,
After so short time of breath,
To house with darknefs, and with death.
Yet, had the number of her days
Been as complete as was her praise,
Nature and fate had had no ftrife
In giving limit to her life.
Her high birth and her graces fweet

15 Quickly found a lover meet; The virgin quire for her request The God that fits at marriage feast ; He at their invoking came But with a scarce well-lighted flame; And in his garland as he stood Ye might discern a cypress-bud. Once had the early matrons run To greet her of a lovely fon,


* Jane, daughter of Thomas Lord Viscount Savage of Rock. Savage.

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And now with second hope she goes,
And calls Lucina to her throes;
But whether by mischance or blame
Atropos for Lucina came ;
And with remorseless cruelty
Spoil'd at once both fruit and tree :
The hapless babe before his birth
Had burial, yet not laid in earth,
And the languish'd mother's womb
Was not long a living tomb.
So have I seen some tender slip,
Sav'd with care from winter's nip,
The pride of her carnation train,
Pluck'd up by fome unheedy swain,
Who only thought to crop the flower
New shot up from vernal shower;
But the fair blossom hangs the head
Side-ways as on a dying bed,
And those pearls of dew she wears,
Prove to be presaging tears,
Which the sad morri had let fall
On her hastening funeral.
Gentle Lady, may thy grave
Peace and quiet ever have ;
After this thy travel sore
Sweet reft seize thee evermore,
That to give the world increase,
Shortned haft thy own life's lease!
Here, besides the forrowing
That thy noble house doth bring,

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Here be tears of perfect moan
Wept for thee in Helicon,
And some flowers, and some bays,
For thy herse, to strow the ways,
Sent thee from the banks of Came,
Devoted to thy virtuous name;
Whilst thou, bright Saint, high fitft in glory,
Next her much like to thee in story,
That fair Syrian shepherdess,
Who after years of barrenness,
The highly-favor'd Jofeph bore
To him that serv'd for her before,
And at her next birth, much like thee,
Through pangs fled to felicity,
Far within the bofom bright
Of blazing Majesty and Light:
There with thee, new welcome Saint,
Like fortunes may her soul acquaint,
With thee there clad in radiant sheen,
No Marchioness, but now a Queen.






OW the bright morning star, day's harbinger,

Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrole. Hail, bounteous May, that doft inspire

5 Mirth and youth and warm defire; VOL. XII.



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