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Courted by Fame for bounties, which the Heaven
Gave thee in great; which, if in parcels given,

Too many such we happy sure might call;
How happy then wast thou, who enjoy’dst them all?
A whiter soul ne'er body did invest,

And now, sequesterd, cannot be but blest;
Enrob’d in glory, midst those hierarchies

Au, silly soul! what wilt thou say
Of that immortal people of the skies,

When he, whom Earth and Heaven obey,
Bright saints and angels, there from cares made free, Comes man' to judge in the last day?
Nought doth becloud thy sovereign good from thee. When he a reason asks, why grace.
Thou smil'st at Earth's confusions and jars,

And goodness thou wouldst not embrace,
And how for Centaurs' children we wage wars :

But steps of vanity didst trace!
Like honey flies, whose rage whole swarms consumes,
Till dust thrown on them makes them veil their That day of terrour, vengeance, ire,

Now to prevent thou shouldst desire,
Thy friends to thee a monument would raise, And to thy God in haste retire.
And limn thy virtues; but dull grief thy praise
Breaks in the entrance, and our task proves vain;

With wat'ry eyes, and sigh-swoll'n heart,
What duty writes, that woe blots out again :

O beg, beg in his love a part,

Whilst conscience with remorse doth smart.
Yet love a pyramid of sighs thee rears,
And doth embalm thee with farewels and tears. That dreaded day of wrath and shame

In flames shall turn this world's hage frame,
As sacred prophets do proelaim.

0! with what grief shall earthlings groan
Though marble porphyry, and mourning touch, When that great judge, set on his throne,
May praise these spoils, yet can they not too much; | Examines strictly every one!
For beauty last, and this stone doth close,

Shrill-sounding trumpets through the air
Once Earth's delight, Heaven's care, a purest rose.

Shall from dark sepulchres each where
And, reader, shouldst thou but let fall a tear

Force wretched mortals to appear.
Upon it, other flow'rs shall here appear,
Sad violets and hyacinths, which grow

Nature and Death amaz'd remain
With marks of grief, a public loss to show.

To find their dead arise again,

And process with their judge maintain.
Relenting eye, which deignest to this stone
To lend a look, bebold here laid in one,

Display'd then open books shall lie,
The living and the dead interr'd; for dead Which all those secret crimes descry
The turtle in its mate is; and she fled

For which the guilty world must die.
From earth, her choos'd this place of grief
To bound thoughts, a mall and sad relief.

The Judge enthron'd, whom bribes not gain,

The closest crimes appear shall plain,
His is this monument, for hers no art
Could frame; a pyramid rais'd of his heart.

And none unpunished remain.
Instead of epitaphs and airy praise,

0! who then pity shall poor me?

Or who mine advocate shall be ?
This monument a lady chaste did raise
To her lord's living fame; and after death

When scarce the justest pass shall free.
Her body doth unto this place bequeath,

All wholly holy, dreadful King,
To rest with his, till God's shrill trumpet sound, Who freely life to thine dost bring,
Though time her life, no time her love could bound. Of mercy save me, mercy's spring !

Then, sweet Jesu, call to mind

How of thy pains I was the end,

And favour let me that day find.

In search of me thou, full of pain,

Didst sweat blood, death on cross sustain:
Though I have twice been at the doors of Death,

Let not these suff'rings be in vain.
And twice found shut those gates which ever mourn,
This but a lightning is, truce ta'en to breathe, Thou supreme Judge, most just and wise,
For late-born sorrows augur fleet return.

Purge me from guilt, which on me lies,

Before that day of thine assize.
Amidst thy sacred cares, and courtly toils,
Alexis, when thou shalt hear wand'ring fame Charg'd with remorse, lo! here I groan,
Tell, Death hath triumph'd o'er my mortal spoils, Sin makes my face a blush take on ;
And that on Earth I am but a sad name;

Ah! spare me, prostrate at thy throne.
If thou e'er held me dear, by all our love, Who Mary Magdalen didst spare,
By all that bliss, those joys Heaven here us gave, And lend'st the thief on cross thine ear,
I conjure thee, and by the maids of Jove,

Show me fair hopes I should not fear.
To grave this short remembrance on my grave :

My prayers imperfect are and weak, « Here Damon lies, whose songs did sometime grace | But worthy of thy grace them make, The murmuring Eski--may roses shade the place.” And save me from Hell's burning lake.

On that great day, at thy right hand,
Grant I amongst thy sheep may stand,
Sequester'd from the goatish band.
When that the reprobates are all
To everlasting flames made thrall,
O to thy chosen, Lord, me call !
That I one of thy company,
With those whom thou dost justify,
May live blest in eternity.

What serves it to be good ? Goodness by thee,
The holy-wise is thought a fool to be;
For thee, the man to temperance inclin'd
Is held but of a base and abject mind;
The continent is thought, for thee, but cold :
Who yet was good, that ever died old ?
The pitiful, who otbers fears to kill,
Is kill'd himself, and goodness doth him ill;
The meek and humble man who cannot brave,
By thee is to some giant's brood made slave.
Poor Goodness, thine thou to such wrongs set'st forth,
That, O! I fear me, thou art nothing worth,
And when I look to Earth, and not to Heaven,
Ere I were turned dove, I would be raven.

SONNETS. Too long I follow'd have my fond desire, And too long painted on the ocean streams; Too long refreshment sought amidst the fire, Pursu'd those joys which to my soul are blames. Ah! when I had what most I did admire, And seen of life's delights the last extremes, I found all but a rose hedg'd with a brier, A nought, a thought, a masquerade of dreams. Henceforth on thee, my only good, I 'll think; For only thou canst grant what I do crave; Thy nail my pen shall be ; thy blood, mine ink; Thy winding-sheet, my paper ; study, grave: And, till my soul forth of this body flee, No hope I'll have but only, only thee.

To spread the azure canopy of Heaven,
And spangle it all with sparks of burning gold;
To place this pond'rous globe of Earth so even,
That it should all, and nought should it uphold;
With motions strange tendue the planets seven,
And Jove to make so mild, and Mars so bold;
To temper what is moist, dry, hot, and cold,
Of all their jars that sweet accords are given ;
Lord, to thy wisdom's nought, nought to thy might:
But that thou shouldst, thy glory laid aside,
Come basely in mortality to 'bide,
And die for those deserv'd an endless night;
A wonder is, so far above our wit,
That angels stand amaz'd to think on it.

What hapless hap bad I for to be born
In these unhappy times, and dying days,
Of this now doting world, when good decays,
Love's quite extinct, and virtue's held a scorp!
When such are only priz'd by wretched ways,
Who with a golden fleece them can adorn;
When avarice and lust are counted praise,
And bravest minds live, orphan like, forloru !
Why was not I born in that golden age,
When gold was not yet known, and those black arts
By which base worldlings vilely play their parts,
With horrid acts staining Earth's stately stage?
To have been then, O Heaven! 't had been my bliss;
But bless me now, and take me soon from this.

“ Bright portals of the sky,

Emboss'd with sparkling stars;
Doors of eternity,
With diamantine bars,
Your arras rich uphold;
Loose all your bolts and springs,
Ope wide your leaves of gold ;

That in your roofs may come the King of kings. “Scarf'd in a rosy cloud,

He doth ascend the air;
Straigbt doth the Moon bim shroud
With her resplendent hair:
The next encrystall'd light
Submits to him its beams;
And he doth trace the height

Of that fair lamp which flames of beauty streams. " He towers those golden bounds

He did to Sun bequeath;
The higher wand'ring rounds
Are found his feet beneath:
The milky-way comes near,
Heaven's axle seems to bend,
Above each turning sphere

That, rob'd in glory, Heaven's King may ascend. “ O Well-spring of this all !

Thy Father's image vive;
Word, that from nought did call
What is, doth reason, live!
The soul's eterual food,
Earth's joy, delight of Heaven,
All truth, love, beauty, good,

To thee, to thee, be praises ever given, " What was dismarshall'd late

In this thy noble frame,
And lost the prime estate,
Hath re-obtain’d the same,
Is now most perfect seen ;
Streams, which diverted were
(And, troubled, stray'd unclean)

From their first source, by tbee home turned are, “ By thee, that blemish old

Of Eden's leprous prince,
Which on his race took hold,
And him exil'd from thence,
Now put away is far;
With sword, in ireful guise,
No cherub more shall bar
Poor man the entrance into Paradise.

ASTREA in this time
Now doth not live, but is fled up to Heaven ;
Or if she live, it is not without crime
That she doth use her power,
And she is no more virgin, but a whore;
Whore, prostitute for gold:
For she doth never hold her balance even;
And when her sword is rollid,
The bad, injurious, false, she not o'erthrows,
But on the innocent lets fall her blows.

“ By thee, those spirits pure, First children of the light,

More oft than once Death whisper'd in mine ear, Now fixed stand, and sure,

“Grave what thou hear'st in diamond and gold; In their eternal right;

I am that monarch whom all monarchs fear, Now human companies

Who have in dust their far-stretch'd pride uprollid. Renew their ruin'd wall;

All, all is mine beneath Moon's silver sphere; Fall'n man, as tbou mak'st rise,

And nought, save virtue, can my power withhold: Thou giv'st to angels, that they shall not fall.

This, not believ'd, experience true thee told, “ By thee, that prince of sin,

By danger late when I to thee came near. That doth with mischief swell,

As bugbear then my visage I did show, Hath lost what he did win,

That of my horrours thou right use might'st make, And shall endungeon'd dwell;

And a more sacred path of living take: His spoils are made the prey,

Now still walk armed for my ruthless blow; His fanes are sack'd and torn,

'Trust flattering life no more, redeem time past, His altars raz'd away,

And live each day, as if it were thy last.” And what ador'd was late, now lies a scorn. * These mansions pure and clear,

THE SHADOW OF THE JUDGMENT. Which are not made by hands,

Above those boundless bounds, where stars do move, Which once by him 'joy'd were,

The ceiling of the crystal round above, And his, the iu not stain'd, bands,

And rainbow-sparkling arch of diamond clear, Now forfet’d, dispossest,

Which crowns the azure of each undersphere, And headlong from them thrown,

In a rich mansion, radiant with light,
Shall Adam's heirs make blest,

To which the Sun is scarce a taper bright,
By thee, their great Redeemer, made their own. Which, though a body, yet so pure is fram'd,

That almost spiritual it may be namd, “O! Well-spring of this all!

Where bliss aboundeth, and a lasting May, Thy Father's image vive;

All pleasures heightening, flourisheth for aye, Word, that from nought did call

The King of Ages dwells. About his throne, What is, doth reason, live!

Like to those beams day's golden lamp hath on, Whose work is but to will;

Angelic splendours glance, more swift than aught God's co-eternal son,

Reveal'd to sense, nay, than the winged thought, Great banisher of ill,

His will to practise: here do seraphim By none but thee could these great deeds be done.

Burn with immortal love; there cherubim, “ Now each ethereal gate

With other voble people of the light, To bim hath open'd been;

As eaglets in the Sun, delight their sight; And Glory's King in state

Heaven's ancient denizens, pure active powers, His palace enters in:

Which, freed of death, that cloister high embowers, Now come is this High Priest

Ethereal princes, ever-conquering bands, In the most holy place,

Blest subjects, acting what their king commands; Not without blood addrest,

Sweet choristers, by whose melodious straips With glory Heaven, the Earth to crown with grace. Skies dance, and Earth untir'd their brawl sustains.

Mixed among whose sacred legions dear, « Stars, which all eyes were late,

The spotless souls of humanes do appear, And did with wonder burn,

Divesting bodies which did cares divest, His name to celebrate,

And there live happy in eternal rest. In flaming tongues them turn;

Hither, surcharg'd with grief, fraught with annoy, Their orby crystals more

(Sad spectacle into that place of joy!) More active than before,

Her hair disorder'd, dangling o'er her face, And entheate from above,

Which bad of pallid violets the grace; Their sovereign prince laud, glorify, adore.

The crimson mantle, wont her to adorn, “ The choirs of happy souls,

Cast loose about, and in large pieces torn; Wak'd with that music sweet,

Sighs breathing forth, and from her heary eyne, Whose descant care controuls,

Along her cheeks distilling crystal brine, Their Lord in triumph meet;

Which downward to her ivory breast was driven, The spotless sp'rits of light

And had bedew'd the milky-way of Heaven, His trophies do extol,

Came Piety: at her left hand near by, And, arch'd in squadrons bright,

A wailing woman bare her company, Greet their great Victor in his capitol.

Whose tender babes her snowy neck did clip,

And now bang on her pap, now by her lip: O glory of the Heaven !

Flames glanc'd her head above, wbich once did glow, O sole delight of Earth !

But late look pale, a poor and ruthful show! To thee all power be given,

She, sobbing, shrunk the throne of God before, God's uncreated birth;

And thus began her case to him deplore: Of mankind lover true,

“ Forlorn, wretch'd, desolate! to whom should I Endurer of his wrong,

My refuge have, below or in the sky,
Who dost the world renew,

But unto thee? See, all-beholding King,
Still be thou our salvation, and our song." That servant, no, that darling thou didst bring
From top of Olivet such notes did rise,

On Earth, lost man to save from Hell's abime,
When man's Redeemer did transcend the skies. And raise unto those regions above time;

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Who made thy name so truly be implor'd, All live on Earth by spoil, the host his guest And by the reverend soul so long ador'd,

Betrays; the man of her lies in his breast Her banish'd now see from these lower bounds; Is not assur'd; the son the father's death Behold her garments' shreds, her body's wounds: Attempts; and kindred kindred reave of breath Look how her sister Charity there stands,

By lurking means, of such age few makes sick, Proscrib'd on Earth, all maim'd by wicked hands : Since Hell disgorg'd her baneful arsenic. Mischief there mounts to such an high degree, Whom murders, foul assassinates defile, That there now none is left that cares for me. Most who the harmless innocents beguile, There dwells idolatry, there atheism reigns; Who most can ravage, rob, ransack, blaspheme, There man in dumb, yet roaring, sins him stains; Is held most virtuous, bath a worthy's name; So foolish, that he puppets will adore

So on embolden'd malice they rely, Of metal, stone, and birds, beasts, trees, before That, madding, thy great puissance they defy: He once will to thy holy service bow,

Erst man resembled thy portrait, soil'd by smoke And yield thee homage. Ah, alas! yet now Now like thy creature hardly doth he look. To those black sp'rits which thou dost keep in chains Old Nature here (she pointed where there stood He vows obedience, and with shameful pains An aged lady in a heavy mood) Infernal borrours courts; case fond and strange! Doth break her staff, denying human race To bane than bliss desiring more the change.

To come of her, things born to her disgrace! Thy Charity, of graces once the chief

The dove the dove, the swan doth love the swan; Did long time find in hospitals relief;

Nought so relentless unto man as man. Which now lie levelld with the lowest ground,

O! if thou mad'st this world, govern'st it all, Where sad memorials scarce are of them found. Deserved vengeance on the Earth let fall: Then (vagabonding) temples her receiv'd,

The period of her standing perfect is; Where my poor cells afforded what she cravid; Her hour-glass not a minute short doth miss. But now thy temples raz'd are, human blood The end, O Lord, is come; then let no more Those places stains, late where thy altars stood : Mischief still triumph, bad the good devour; Times are so horrid, to implore thy name

But of thy word since constant, true thou art, That it is held now on the Earth a blame.

Give good their guerdon, wicked due desert.” Now doth the warrior, with his dart and sword, She said: throughout the shining palace went Write laws in blood, and vent them for thy word: A murmur soft, such as afar is sent Religion, faith pretending to make known,

By musked zephyrs’ sighs along the main; All have, all faith, religion quite o’erthrown! Or when they curl some flow'ry lee and plain : Men awless, lawless live; most woful case ! One was their thought, one their intention, will; Men no more men, a God-contemning race." Nor could they err, Truth there residing still:

Scarce had she said, when, from the nether worla All, mov'd with zeal, as one with cries did pray, (Like to a lightning through the welkin hurld, “ Hasten, O Lord! O hasten the last day!" That scores with fames the way, and erery eye Look how a generous prince, when he doth hear With terrouir dazzles as it swimmeth by)

Some loving city, and to him most dear, Came Justice; to whom angels did make place,

Which wont with gifts and shows him entertain And Truth her flying footsteps straight did trace. (And, as a father's, did obey his reign,) Her sword was lost, the precious weights shc bare

A rout of slaves and rascal foes to wrack, Their beam had torn, scales rudely bruised were: Her buildings overthrow, her riches sack, From off her head was reft her golden crown;

Feels vengeful flames within his bosom burn, In rags her veil was rent, and star-spangl'd gown; And a just rage all respects overturn: Her tear-wet locks hang'do'er her face, which made So seeing Earth, of angels once the inn, Between her and the Mghty King a shaile;

Mansions of saints, deflower'd all by sin, Just wrath had rais'd her colour, (like the morn

And quite confus'd, by wretches here beneath, Portending clouds moist embryos to be born) The world's great Sovereign moved was to wrath. Of which, she taking leave, with heart swoll'n great, Thrice did he rouse himseif, thrice from bis face Thus strove to 'plain before the throne of state. Flames sparkle did throughout the heavenly place.

“ Is not the Earth thy workmanship, great King ? The stars, though fixed, in their rounds did quake; Didst thou not all this all from nought once bring The Earth, and earth-embracing sea, did shake: To this rich beauty, which doth on it shine;

Carmel and Hæmus felt it; Athos' tops Bestowing on each creature of thine

Affrighted shrunk; and near the Ethiops, Some shadow of thy bounty? Is not man

Atlas, the Pyrenees, the Apennine, Thy vassal, plac'd to spend his life's short span And lofty Grampius, which with snow duth shine. To do thee homage? And then didst not thou Then to the synod of the sp'rits he swore, A queen install me there, to whom should bow Man's care should end, and time should be no more, Thy Earth's indwellers, and to this effect

By his own self he swore of perfect worth, Put in my hand thy sword ? O high neglect! Straight to perform his word sent angels forth. Now wretched earthlings, to thy great disgrace,

There lies an island, where the radiant Sun, Perverted have my pow'r, and do deface

When he doth to the northern tropics run, All reverent tracts of justice; now the Earth Of six long moneths makes one tedious day; Is but a frame of shame, a funeral hearth,

And when through southern signs he holds his way, Where every virtue hath consumed been,

Six moneths turneth in one loathsome night, And nought (no, not their dust) rests to be seen: (Night neither here is fair, nor day bot-bright, Long hath it me abhorr’d, long chased me; But half white, and half more) where, sadly clear, Expell’d at last, here I have fled to thee,

Still coldly glance the beams of either BearAnd forthwith rather would to Hell repair,

The frosty Groen-land. On the lonely shore Than Earth, since justice execute is there.

The ocean in mountains hoarse doth roar,

And over-tumbling, tumbling over rocks,

Men basilisks to men prove, and by breath, Cast various rainbows, which in froth he chokes: Than lead or steel, bring worse and swifter death: Gulphs all about are shrunk most strangely steep, No cypress, obsequies, no tomb they have; Than Nilus' cataracts more vast and deep. The sad Heaven mostly serves them for a grare. To the wild land beneath to make a shade,

These over Earth tumultuously do run, A mountain lifteth up his crested head:

South, north, from rising to the setting Sun; His locks are icicles, his brows are snow;

They sometime part, yet, than the winds more feet, Yet from his burning bowels deep below,

Forthwith together in one place they meet. Comets, far-flaming pyramids, are driven, Great Quinzay, ye it know, Susania's pride, And pitchy meteors, to the cope of Heaven. And you where stately Tiber's streains do glide; No summer here the lovely grass forth brings, Memphis, Parthenope, ye too it kuow, Nor trees, no, not the deadly cypress springs. And where Euripus' seven-fold tide doth flow: Cave-loving Echo, daughter of the air,

Ye know it, empresses, on Thames, Rhone, Seine ; By human voice was never waken'd here :

And ye, fair queens, by Tagus, Danube, Rhine; Instead of night's black bird, and plaintful owl, Though they do scour the Earth, roam far and large, Infernal furies here do yell and howl.

Not thus content, the angels leave their charge : A mouth yawns in this beight so black, obscure We of her wreck these slender signs may name, With vapours, that no eye it can endure:

By greater they the judgment do proclaim. Great Ætna's caverns never yet did make

This centre's centre with a mighty blow Such sable damps, though they be bideous black; One bruiseth, whose crack'd concaves louder low, Stern horrours here eternally do dwell,

And rumble, than if all th' artillery And this gulf destine for a gate to Hell ;

On Earth discharg'd at once were in the sky; Forth from this place of dread, Earth to appal, Her surface shakes, her mountains in the main Three furies rushed at the angel's call.

Turu topsy-turvy, of heights making plain : One with long tresses doth her visage mask, Towns them ingulf; and late where towers did stand Her temples clouding in a borrid cask;

Now nought remaineth but a waste of sand: Her right hand swings a brandon in the air, With turning eddies seas sink under ground, Which flames and terrour hurleth every where; And in their floating depth are valleys found; Poud'rous with darts, her left doth bear a shield, Late where with foamy crests waves tilted wares; Where Gorgon's head looks grim in sable field: Now fishy bottoms shine, and mossy caves. Her eyes blaze fire and blood, each bair 'stills blood, The mariner casts an amazed eye Blood thrills from either pap, and where she stood On his wing'd firs, which bedded he finds lie, Blood's liquid coral sprang her feet beneath; Yet can be see no shore; but whilst he thinks, Where she doth stretch her arm is blood and death. What bideous crevice that huge current drinks, Her Stygian bead no sooner she uprears,

The streams rush back again with storming tide, When Earth of swords,helms, lances,straight appears And now his ships on crystal mountains glide, To be deliver'd; and from out her womb,

Till they be huri'd far beyond seas and hope, In flame-wing'd thunders, artillery doth come; And settle on some hill or palace top; Floods' silver streams do take a blushing dye; Or, by triumphant surges over-driven, The plains with breathless bodies buried lie; Show Earth their entrails, and their keels the Hearen, Rage, wrong, rape, sacrilege, do her attend,

Sky's cloudy tables some do paint, with fights Pear, discord, wrack, and woes which have no end : Of armed squadrons, justling steeds and knights

, Town is by town, and prince by prince withstood; With shining crosses, judge, and sapphire throne, Earth turns an hideous shamble, a lake of blood. Arraigned criminals to howl and groan, (shine

The next, with eyes sunk hollow in her brajns, And plaints sent forth are heard: new worlds seen Lean face, snarl'd hair, with black and empty veins, with other suns and moons, false stars decline, Her dry'd-up boues scarce cover'd with her skin, And dive in seas; red comets warm the air, Bewraying that strange structure built within ; And blaze, as other worlds were judged there, Thigh-bellyless, most ghastly to the sight,

Others the heavenly bodies do displace, A wasted skeleton resembleth right.

Make Sun his sister's stranger steps to trace; Where she doth roam in air faint do the birds, Beyond the course of spheres he drives his coach, Yawn do earth's ruthless brood and harmless herds, and near the cold Arcturus doth approach; The wood's wild forragers do howl and roar, The Scythian amaz'd is at such beams, The humid swimmers die along the shore :

The Mauritanian to see icy streams; In towns, the living do the dead up eat,

The shadow, which erewhile turn'd to the west, Then die themselves, alas! and, wanting meat, Now wheels about, then reeleth to the east: Mothers not spare the birth of their own wombs, New stars above the eighth Heaven sparkle clear, But turn those pests of life to fatal tombs.

Mars chops with Saturn, Jove claims Mars's spbere; Last did a saffron-colourd hag come out, Shrunk nearer Earth, all blacken'd now and brown, With uncomb'd hair, brows banded all about In mask of weeping clouds appears the Moon. With dusky clouds, in ragged mantle clad, There are no seasons, autumn, summer, spring, Her breath with stinking fumes the air bespread ; All are stern winter, and no birth forth bring: In either hand she held a whip, whose wires Red turns the sky's blue curtain o'er this globe, Stilld poison, blaz'd with Phlegethontal fires. As to propine the judge with purple robe. Relentless, she each state, sex, age, defiles,

At first, entranc'd, with sad and curious eyes, Earth streams with gores, burns with envenom'd boils; Earth's pilgrims stare on those strange prodigies: Where she repairs, towns do in deserts turp, The star-gazer this round finds truly more The living have no pause the dead to mourn; In parts and whole, yet by no skill cau prove The friend, ah! dares not lock the dying eyes The firmament's stay'd firmness. They which dream Of his belov'd; the wife the husband dies; An everlastingness in world's vast frame,

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