« السابقةمتابعة »
He, sovereign priest, stooping his regal head,
His starry front low-roof'd beneath the skies :
These latest scenes confine my roving verse ;
His godlike acts, and his temptations fierce,
Of lute, or viol still, more apt for mournful things.
Befriend me, night, best patroness of grief:
That heaven and earth are colour'd with my woe;
The leaves should all be black whereon I write, And letters, where my tears have wash'd, a wannish white.
See, see the chariot, and those rushing wheels,
In pensive trance, and anguish, and ecstatic fit.
Mine eye hath found that sad sepulchral rock
For sure so well instructed are my tears,
Or should I thence, hurried on viewless wing,
Might think the infection of my sorrows oud Had got a race of mourners on some pregnan cloud.
[This subject the author finding to be above the year, he had when he wrote it, and nothing satisfied with what was be un, left it unfinished.]
UPON THE CIRCUMCISION.
YE flaming powers, and winged warriors bri
Burn in your sighs, and borrow
Seas wept from our deep sorrow :
He, who with all heaven's heraldry whilere
Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us ease.
Alas! how soon our sin
Sore doth begin
His infancy to seize !
O more exceeding love, or law more just?
Were lost in death, till he, that dwelt above,
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, oh, ere long,
Huge pangs and strong
Will pierce more near his heart.
ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT, DYING OF A COUGH.
O FAIREST flower, no sooner blown but blasted, Soft silken primrose fading timelessly,
Summer's chief honour, if thou hadst out-lasted Bleak Winter's force that made thy blossom dry; For he, being amorous on that lovely dye
That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss, But kill'd, alas! and then bewail'd his fatal bliss.
For since grim Aquilo, his charioteer,
If likewise he some fair one wedded not,
So, mounting up in icy-pearled car,
Through middle empire of the freezing air.
But, all un'wares, with his cold, kind embrace,
But then transform'd him to a purple flower: Alack, that so to change thee Winter had no power!
Yet can I not persuade me thou art dead,
Oh, no! for something in thy face did shine
Resolve me, then, O soul most surely blest,
Whether.above that high first-moving sphere,
O, say me true, if thou wert mortal wight,
And why from us so quickly thou didst take thy flight?
Wert thou some star which from the ruin'd roof Of shaked Olympus by mischance didst fall; Which careful Jove in nature's true behoof Took up, and in fit place did reinstal?
Or did of late Earth's sons besiege the wall
Of sheeny heaven, and thou, some goddess, fled Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head?
Or wert thou that just maid, who once before
[good? Let down in cloudy throne to do the world some
Or wert thou of the golden-winged host,
To scorn the sordid world, and unto heaven aspire?
But, oh! why didst thou not stay here below