And mooned Afhtaroth, Heav'n's queen and mother both, Now fits not girt with tapers holy shine; The Lybic Hammon fhrinks his horn, 200 (mourn In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz XXIII. And fullen Moloch fled, Hath left in shadows dread His burning idol all of blackest hue; In vain with cymbals ring They call the grisly king, 205 In difmal dance about the furnace blue; The brutish Gods of Nile as fast, 210 Ifis and Orus, and the dog Anubis haste. Nor is Ofiris feen XXIV. In Memphian grove or green, Trampling theunfhowr'd grafs with lowings loud: Nor can he be at rest Within his facred cheft, 516 Nought but profoundest Hell can be his shroud; In vain with timbrel'd anthems dark The fable-ftoled forcerers bear his worshipt ark. XXV. He feels from Juda's land The dreaded Infant's hand, The of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn; rays 521 Nor Nor all the Gods befide, Longer dare abide, Not Typhon huge ending in fnaky twine: Our babe to fhow his Godhead true, 225 Can in his fwadling bands controll the damned crew. XXVI. So when the fun in bed, Curtain'd with cloudy red, Pillows his chin upon an orient wave, The flocking shadows pale Troop to th' infernal jail, Each fetter'd ghoft flips to his several grave, And the yellow-skirted Fayes 230 Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov'd 235 (maze. Time is our tedious fong fhould here have ending: Heav'n's youngest teemed star Hath fix'd her polish'd car, 240 Her fleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending: And all about the courtly stable Bright-harnest Angels fit in order serviceable. The E IV. The PASSION. I. REWHILE of music, and ethereal mirth, Wherewith the stage of air and earth did ring, And joyous news of heav'nly Infant's birth, My Muse with Angels did divide to sing; But headlong joy is ever on the wing, 5 In wintry folftice like the shorten'd light Soon swallow'd up in dark and long out-living night. II. For now to forrow muft I tune my fong, And fet my harp to notes of faddest woe, 10 Which on our dearest Lord did seise ere long, Dangers, and fnares, and wrongs, and worse than fo, Which he for us did freely undergo: Most perfect Hero, try'd in heaviest plight Of labors huge and hard, too hard for human wight! III. He sovran priest stooping his regal head, That dropt with odorous oil down his fair eyes, His starry front low-rooft beneath the skies; 15 Yet more; the stroke of death he must abide, 20 Then lies him meekly down faft by his brethren's fide. Thefe IV. These latest scenes confine my roving verse, Of lute, or viol ftill, more apt for mournful things. V. 30 Befriend me Night, beft patronefs of grief, The leaves fhould all be black whereon I write, And letters where my tears have wash'da wannish VI. (white. See, see the chariot, and those rushing wheels, 36 That whirl'd the Prophet up at Chebar flood, My spirit fome tranfporting Cherub feels, To bear me where the tow'rs of Salem ftood, Once glorious tow'rs, now funk in guiltless blood; There doth my foul in holy vision fit In pensive trance, and anguish, and exstatic fit. VII. 41 Mine eye hath found that fad fepulchral rock Yet Yet on the soften'd quarry would I score For fure fo well inftructed are my tears, That they would fitly fall in order'd characters. Or should I thence hurried on viewless wing, 50 forrows loud 55 LY envious Time, till thou run out thy race, Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours, Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace; And glut thyfelf with what thy womb devours, Which is no more than what is false and vain, 5 And merely mortal drofs, So little is our lofs, So little is thy gain. For when as each thing bad thou hast intomb'd, And last of all thy greedy felf confum'd, A a IO Then |