She, who left such a body, as even she:
Only in heav'n could learn how it can be
Made better, for she rather was two Souls,
Cr like to full on both-sides-written rolls,
Where eyes might read upon the outward skin
As strong records for God as minds within;
She who, by making full perfection grow,
Pieces a circle, and still keeps it so,
Long'd for, and longing for't, to heav'n is gone,
Where she receives and gives addition.
Here in a place, where misdevotion frames
A thousand prayers to saints, whose very names
The ancient church knew not. Heav'n knows not yet,
And where what laws of poetry admit,
Laws of religion have at least the same,
Immortal Maid! I might invoke thy name.
Could any saint provoke that appetite,
Thou here shouldst make me a French convertite; ~
But thou wouldst not, nor wouldst thou be content.
To take this for my second year's true rent.
Did this coin bear any other stamp than his
That gave thee power to do, me to say this?
Since his will is that to posterity
Thou shouldst for life and death a pattern be;
And that the world should notice have of this,
The purpose and th' authority is his:
Thou art the proclamation, and I am
The trumpet, at whose voice the people came. 528
Look to me, Faith! and look to my faith, God,
For both my centres feel this period.
Of weight one centre, one of greatness, is,
And reason is that centre, faith is this;
For into' our reason flow, and there do end,
All that this natural world doth comprehend;
Quotidian things, and equidistant hence,
Shut in for man in one circumference;
But for th' enormous greatnesses which are
So disproportion'd and so angular,
As is God's essence, place, and providence,
Where, how, when, what, souls do departed hence:
These things (eccentric else) on faith do strike,
Yet neither all nor upon all alike;
For Reason, put t' her best extension,
Almost meets Faith, and makes both centres one; And nothing ever came so near to this, troub As contemplation of that Prince we miss;
For all that Faith might credit, mankind could,
Reason still seconded, that this prince would.
If then least moving of the centre make,
More than if whole hell belch'd the world to shake,
What must this do, centres distracted so,
That we see not what to believe or know?
Was it not well believ'd till now that he,
Whose reputation was an ecstasy,
On neighbour states, which knew not why to wake,
Till he discover'd what ways he would take;
For whom what princes angled, when they try'd
Met a torpedo, and were stupify'd;
And others' studies, how he would be bent,
Was his great father's greatest instrument,
And activ'st spirit, to convey and tie
This soul of peace unto Christianity?
Was it not well believ'd that he would make
This general peace th' eternal overtake,
And that his times might have stretch'd out so far
As to tocuh those of which they emblems are?
For to confirm this just belief, that now
The last days came, we saw heav'n did allow
That from his an
Would ease as much, doth he grudge misery.fort
And will not let's enjoy our curse to die?,
As for the earth, thrown lowest down of all,
'Twere an ambition to desire to fall;
So God, in our desire to die, doth know
Our plot for ease, in being wretched so:
Therefore we live, tho' such a life we have
As but so many mandrakes on his grave,
What had his growth and generation done,
When, what we are, his putrefaction
Sustains in us, earth, which griefs animate 2
Nor hath our world now other soul than that; 5 a.
And could grief get so high as heav'n, that quire,f
Forgetting this their new joy, would desire. i 60
(With grief to see him) he had stay'd below,
To rectify our errors they foreknow.
Is th' other centre, reason, faster then?q
Where should we look for that, now we're not men?
For if our reason be our connection
Of causes, now to us there can be none: 0
For, as if all the substances were spent,
It were madness to enquire of accident;
So is 't to look for Reason, he being gone, fai
The only subject Reason wrought upon,
མ ནི ཀ བཻ 179
If Fate have such a chain, whose divers links
Industrious man discerneth, as he thinks,
When miracle doth come, and so steal in
A new link, man knows not where to begin:
At a much deader fault must reason be, 109 Death having broke off such a link as he.
But now for us with busy proof to come
That we 'ave no reason would prove we had some;
So would just lamentations; therefore we
May safelier say that we are dead than he.
So if our griefs we do not well declare >
We 'ave double excuse; he's not dead, we are.ub
Yet would not I die yet; for tho' I be
Too narrow to think him as he is he,
(Our souls best baiting and mid period
In her long journey of considering God).
Yet (no dishonour) I can reach him thus,
As he embrac'd the fires of love with us.
Oh! may I (since I live) but see or hear
That she-intelligence which mov'd this sphere,
I pardon Fate my life: whoe'er thou be
Which hast the noble conscience, thou art she.
I conjure thee by all the charms he spoke, î
By th' oaths which only you two never broke,
By all the souls ye sigh'd, that if you see
These lines, you wish I knew your history.
So much, as you two mutual heav'ns were here,
I were an angel singing what you were.
|