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That erst with music, and triumphant fong,
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.
VII. A T
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!
The honor'd wife of Winchester,
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.
And now with second hope she goes,
Here be tears of perfect moan
SONG. ON MAY MORNING.
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.