Apollo from his fhrine Can no more divine, 176 With hollow fhriek the fleep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance, or breathed fpell Inspires the pale-ey'd prieft from the prophetic cell. XX. The lonely mountains o'er, And the refounding fhore, A voice of weeping heard and loud lament; From haunted spring, and dale Edg'd with poplar pale, 181 185 (mourn. The parting Genius is with fighing sent; With flow'r-inwoven treffes torn The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets A drear and dying found Affrights the Flamens at their fervice quaint; And the chill marble feems to fweat, 195 While each peculiar Pow'r forgoes his wonted feat. Peor and Baälim XXII. Forfake their temples dim, With that twice batter'd God of Palestine; And And mooned Afhtaroth, Heav'n's queen and mother both, Now fits not girt with tapers holy shine; The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn, 200 (mourn In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz XXIII. And fullen Moloch fled, Hath left in fhadows 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 seen XXIV. In Memphian grove or green, Trampling theunshowr'd grass with lowings loud: Nor can he be at reft 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 rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn; 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 swadling 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 feveral grave, And the yellow-skirted Fayes. 230 Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov'd XXVII. But see the Virgin blest Hath laid her Babe to reft, 235 (maze. Time is our tedious fong should here have ending: Heav'n's youngest teemed ftar 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 fing; 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 must I tune my fong, And fet my harp to notes of saddest woe, 10 Which on our dearest Lord did feife ere long, Dangers, and fnares, and wrongs, and worse than so, Which he for us did freely undergo: Moft 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 ftarry front low-rooft beneath the skies; 15 Yet more; the ftroke of death he muft abide, 20 Then lies him meekly down faft by his brethren's fide. These IV. Thefe latest scenes confine my roving verse, His Godlike acts, and his temptations fierce, ⚫ Of lute, or viol ftill, more apt for mournful things. v. 30 Befriend me Night, best patroness of grief, VI. The leaves fhould all be black whereon I write, And letters where my tears have wash'da wannish (white. See, fee the chariot, and those rufhing wheels, 36 That whirl'd the Prophet up at Chebar flood, My spirit some transporting Cherub feels, To bear me where the tow'rs of Salem stood, Once glorious tow'rs, now funk in guiltless blood; There doth my foul in holy vision fit In pensive trance, and anguish, and exftatic fit. VII. 4I Mine eye hath found that fad fepulchral rock Yet |