All joy is but annoy, all concord ftrife,

Of humble holiness, in virtues die

THAT space where curled waves do now divide
From the great continent our happy ifle,
Was fometime land, and now where fhips do glide
Once with laborious art the plough did toil :
Once thofe fair bounds ftretch'd out fo far and wide,
Where towns, no fhires enwall'd, endear each mile,
Where all ignoble fea and marish vile,
Where Proteus flocks danc'd measures to the tide;
So age transforming all still forward runs,
No wonder though the earth doth change her
face,

New manners, pleasures new, turn with new funs,
Locks now like gold grow to an hoary grace;
Nay, mind's rare fhape doth change, that lies
defpis'd,

Which was fo dear of late and highly priz'd.
XXII.

THIS world a hunting is,

The prey poor man, the Nimrod fierce is death, His fpeedy greyhounds are,

Luft, fickness, envy, care,

Strife that ne'er falls amifs,

With coals of fin, though none the smoke defcry.
Bad is that angel that earst fell from heaven,

But not fo bad as he, nor in worse case,
Who hides a trait'rous mind with fmiling face,
And with a dove's white feathers clothes a raven:
Each fin fome colour hath it to adorn,
Hypocrify Almighty God doth fcorn.
XXV.

Now doth the fun appear,

The mountain's fnow decay,

Crown'd with frail flow'rs forth comes the infant year;

My foul, time pofts away,

And thou yet in that froft,

Which flow'r and fruit hath loft,

As if all here immortal were, doft stay!
For fhame thy powers awake,

Look to that heaven which never night makes black,

And there at that immortal fun's bright rays, Deck thee with flow'rs which fear not rage of days.

XXVI.

THRICE bappy he who by fome fhady grove,
Far from the clam'rous world, doth live his own,
Though folitary, who is not alone,

But doth converfe with that eternal love :
O how more fweet is birds harmonious moan,
Or the hoarse fobbings of the widow'd dove,
Than those smooth whisperings near a prince's
throne,

Which good make doubtful, do the evil approve!
O how more sweet is zephyr's wholesome breath,'
And fighs embalm'd, which new-born flow'rs un-
fold,

Of these the eager chace,

Now, if by chance we fly

Old age with stealing pace

Cafts on his nets, and there we panting die.

XXIII.

WHY (worldlings) do ye truft frail honour's dreams?
And lean to gilded glories, which decay?
Why do ye toil to registrate your names
On icy pillars, which foon melt away?
True honour is not here, that place it claims
Where black-brow'd night doth not exile the day,
Nor no far-fhining lamp dives in the fea,
But an eternal fun spreads lasting beams;
There, it attendeth you, where fpotlefs bands
Of fp'rits ftand gazing on their fovereign blifs,
Where years not hold it in their cank'ring hands,
But who once noble ever noble is.

Look home, left he your weak'ned wit make thrall,

Who Eden's foolish gard'ner earst made fall.
XXIV.

As are thofe apples, pleasant to the eye,
But full of fmoke within, which use to grow
Near that strange lake where God pour'd from the
fky
[throw:
Huge fhow'rs of flames, worfe flames to over-
Such are their works that with a glaring show

How fweet are fireams to poifon drunk in gold!
The world is full of horrors, troubles, flights;
Woods harmless fhades have only true delights.
XXVII.

SWEET bird, that fing'ft away the early hours,
Of winters paft, or coming void of care,
Well pleased with delights which prefent are,
Fair feafons,budding sprays, fweet-fmelling flow'rsa
To rocks, to fprings, to rills, from leavy bow'rs,
Thou thy Creator's goodness doft declare,
And what dear gifts on thee he did not fpare,
A ftain to human fenfe in fin the low'rs.
What foul can be fo fick, which by thy fongs
(Attir'd in sweetnefs) fweetly is not driven
Quite to forget earth's turmoils, fpites and wrongs,
And lift a reverend eye and thought to heaven?
Sweet, artless fongster, thou my mind doest raise
To airs of spheres, yea, and to angels lays.
XXVIII.

As when it happ'neth that fome lovely town
Unto a barbarous befieger falls,

Who both by fword and flames himself installs,
And (fhameless) it in tears and blood doth drown,
Her beauty fpoil'd, her citizens made thralls,
His fpite yet cannot so her all throw down,
But that fonie ftatue, pillar of renown,
Yet lurks unmaim'd within her weeping walls:

So, after all the fpoil difgrace and wreck,
That time, the world, and death could bring
combin'd,

Amid that mafs of ruins they did make,
Safe and all fcarlefs yet remains my mind:

From this fo high tranfcendent rapture fprings,
That I, all elfe defac'd, not envy kings.
XXIX.

LET us each day inure ourfelves to die;
If this (and not our fears) be truly death,
Above the circles both of hope and faith,
With fair immortal pinions to flie ;
If this be death, our best part to untie
(By ruining the jail) from luft and wrath,
And every drowfy languor here beneath,
To be made deniz'd citizen of sky:

To have more knowledge than all books contain,,
All pleasures even furmounting withing pow'r,
The fellowship of God's immortal train,

And theie that time nor force fhall e'er devour? If this be death, what joy, what golden care Of life, can with death's uglinefs compare? XXX.

AMIDST the aɛure clear

Of Jordan's facred streams,

Jordan of Lebanon the offspring dear,
When zephyrs flow'rs unclofe,

And fun shines with new beams,

With grave and ftately grace a nymph arose. Upon her head fhe wore

Of amaranths a crown,

Her left hand palms, her right a porch did bear, Unvail'd fkins whitenefs lay,

Gold hairs in curls hang down,

Eyes fparkled joy, more bright than star of day. The flood a throne her rear'd

Of waves, moft like that heaven

Where beaming ftars in glory turn enfpher'd: The air food calm and clear,

No figh by winds was given,

Birds left to fing, herds feed, her voice to hear, World wand'ring forry wights,

Whom nothing can content

Within thefe varying lifts of days and nights, Whofe life (ere known amifs)

In glittering griefs is fpent,

[blifs.

Come learn (faid fhe) what is your choiceft

From toil and preffing cares

How ye may refpite find,

A fanctuary from foul-thralling fnares,

A port to harbour fure,

In fpite of waves and wind,

[dure.

Which fhall, when time's fwift glass is run, en

Not happy is that life

Which ye as happy hold;

No, but a fea of fears, a field of ftrife,

Charg'd on a throne to fit

With diadems of gold,

Preferv'd by force, and ftill obferv'd by wit;

Huge treasures to enjoy,

Of all her gens spoil Ind,

All Seres filk in garments to employ,
Deliciously to feed,

The phoenix plumes to find

To rest upon, or deck your purple bed.

Sweet mufic's charms, or charming flatterer's Nor can it blifs you bring,

Hid Nature's depths to know,

[Spring,

Why matter changeth, whence each form doth Nor that your fame fhould range,

And after worlds it blow

From Tanais to Nile, from Nile to Gange.

All these have not the pow'r

To free the mind from fears,

Nor hideous horror can allay one hour,

When death in ftealth doth glance;

In fickness lurks or years,

And wakes the foul from out her mortal trance. No, but bleft life is this,

With chafte and pure defire

To turn unto the load ftar of all blifs,
On God the mind to rest,

Burnt up with facred fire,

Poffeffing him, to be by him poffeft. When to the balmy cast

Sun doth his light impart,

Or when he diveth in the lowly weft,
And ravisheth the day,

With spotlefs hands and heart,

Him cheerfully to praife, and to Him pray. To heed each action fo,

For humans earth, enjoying angels heaven.

Swift is your mortal race,

And glaffy is the field,

Vaft are defires not limited by grace,
Life a weak taper is:

Then while it light doth yield,

Leave flying joys, embrace this lafting bliss. This when the nymph had faid,

She div'd within the flood,

Whofe face with fmiling curls long after ftaid, Then fighs did zephyrs prefs,

Birds fang from every wood,

And echoes rang; this was true happiness.
XXXI.

BRIGHT portals of the fky,

Embofs'd with fparkling ftars,

Doors of eternity,

With diamantine bars,

Your arras rich uphold,

Loofe all your bolts and fprings,

Ope wide your leaves of gold;

That in your roofs may come the King of Kings.

Scarf'd in a roly cloud,

He doth afcend the air,

Straight doth the moon him throwd

With her refplendent hair;

The next encrystal'd light

Submits to him its beams,

And he doth trace the height

Now human companies

Renew their ruin'd wall,

Fall'n man as thou mak'ft rife,

Thou giv'ft to angels that they shall not fall.
By thee that prince of fin,

That doth with mifchief fwell,
Hath loft what he did win,
And fhail endungeon'd dwell;
His fpoils are made the prey,
His phanes are fackt and torn,
His altars raz'd away,

And what ador'd was late now lies a fcor
These mansions pure and clear,

Which are not made by hands,
Which once by him joy'd were,
And his (then not ftain'd) bands
(Now forfeit❜d, difpoffeft,

And headlong from them thrown)

Shall Adam's heirs make bleft,

By Thee their great Redeemer made their own

O well-fpring of this all,

Thy fathers image vive,

Word, that from nought did call

What is, doth reafon, live;

Whose work is, but to will,

God s coeternal Son,

Great banisher of ill,

By none but Thee could thefe great deeds be done.

He towers those golden bounds

He did to fun bequeath,

The higher wandring rounds

Are found his feet beneath;
The milky way comes near,
Heaven's axle feems to bend,
Above each turning sphere

To Him hath opened been;

And glory's king in state,

His palace enters in;

Now come is this high priest,

In the most holy place,

Not without blood addreft,

[grace.

well-fpring of this all,

Thy father's image vive,

And did with wonder burn

His name to celebrate,

In flaming tongues them turn;

Their orby crystals move

More active than before,

And entheate from above,

Their fovereign Prince laud, glorify, adore.

The quires of happy fouls,

Wak'd with that mufic fweet,

Whofe defcant care controuls,

Their Lord in triumph meet;

The fpotlefs fp'rits of light

His trophies do extol,

And arch'd in fquadrons bright,

Greet their great victor in his capitol.

O glory of the heaven,

O fole delight of earth,

To thee all power be given,

God's uncreated birth;
Of mankind lover true,
Endurer of his wrong,

Who doft the world renew;

Still be thou our falvation and our fong.

From top of Olivet fuch notes did rife,

When man's Redeemer did tranfcend the skies.

XXXII.

MORE oft than once, Death whifper'd in mine ear

Grave what thou hears in diamond and gold,

I am that monarch whom all monarchs fear, Who have in duft their far-ftretch'd pride uproll'd.

All, all is mine beneath moon's filver sphere,
And nought, fave virtue, can my power with-
hold:

This (not believ'd) experience true thee told,
By danger late when I to thee came near.
As bugbear then my visage I did fhow,
That of my horrors thou right ufe mightst make,
And a more facred path of living take:
Now ftill walk armed for my ruthless blow,

Trust flattering life no more, redeem time past,
And live each day as if it were thy last.

An Hymn on the Faireft Fair.

I FEEL my bofom glow with wontless fires,
Rais'd from the vulgar prefs my mind afpires"
(Wing'd with high thoughts) unto his praise to
climb,

From deep eternity who call'd forth time,
That effence, which not mov'd makes each thing

move,

Uncreate beauty, all-creating love;
But by fo great an object, radiant light,
My heart appall'd, enfeebled refts my fight,
Thick clouds benight my labouring engine,
And at my high attempts my wits repine:
If thou in me this facrcd heat haft wrought,
My knowledge fharpen, farcels lend my thought:
Grant me (time's father, world containing king)
A pow'r of thee in pow'rful lays to fing,
That as thy beauty in earth lives, heaven shines,
So it may dawn or fhadow in my lines.

As far beyond the starry walls of heaven,
As is the loftieft of the planets feven
Sequefier'd from this earth, in pureft light
Out-fhining ours, as ours doth fable night,
Thou all-fufficient Omnipotent,
Thou ever-glorious, most excellent,
God various in names, in effence one,
High art inftalled on a golden throne,
Out-reaching heaven's wide befpangled vault,
Tranfcending all the circles of our thought,
With diamantine fceptre in thy hand,

There thou giv'ft laws, and doft this world command,

This world of concords rais'd unlikely fweet,
Which like a ball lies proftrate at thy feet.
If fo we may well fay (and what we fay
Here wrapt in flesh, led by dim reafon's ray,
To fhow by earthly beauties which we fee
That fp'ritual excellence that shines in thee,
Good Lord forgive) not far from thy right fide,
With curled focks Youth ever doth abide,

Rofe-cheeked Youth who garlanded with flow'rs,
Still blooming, ceafelefsly unto thee pours
Immortal nectar in a cup of gold,
That by no darts of ages thou grow old;
And as ends and beginnings thee not claim,
Succeffionless that thou be ftill the fame.

Near to thy other fide refiftlefs might,
From head to foot in burnifht armour bright,
That rings about him with a waving brand,
And watchful eye, great fentinel doth ftand;

That neither time nor force in ought impair
Thy workmanship, nor harm thine empire fair,
Soon to give death to all again that would,
Stern Discord raise which thou destroy'd of old,
Discord that foe to order, nurse of war,
By which the noblest things demolisht are,
But (caitiff) fhe no treafon doth devife,
When Might to nought doth bring her enterprise;
Thy all-upholding Might her malice reins,
And her to hell throws bound in iron chains.

With locks in waves of gold that ebb and flow
On ivory neck, in robes more white than (now,
Truth stedfastly before thee holds a glass,
Indent'd with gems, where fhineth all that was,
That is, or fhall be, here ere ought was wrought.
Thou knew all that thy pow'r with time forth
[make,

brought,

And more, things numberless which thou could't That actually fhall never being take;

Here thou behold'st thyself, and (strange) doût prove

At once the beauty, lover and the love.

With faces two (like fifters) fweetly fair;
Whofe bloffoms no rough autumn can impair,
Stands Providence, and doth her looks difperfe
Through every corner of this universe,

Thy Providence, at once which general things
And fingular, doth rule as empires kings;
Without whofe care this world (loft) would re-
main,

As fhip without a master in the main,
As chariot alone, as bodies prove

Depriv'd of fouls, whereby they be, live, move.

But who are they which fhine thy throne fe
near?

With facred countenance, and look fevere,
This in one hand a pond'rous fword doth hold,
Her left stays charg'd with balances of gold,
That with brows girt with bays, fweet-smiling face,
Doth bear a brandon, with an infant grace
Two milk-white wings him easily do move;
O fhe thy Juftice is, and this thy Love!

By this thou brought'ft this engine great to light,
By that it fram'd in number, measure, weight,
That deftine doth reward to ill and good;
But fway of juftice is by love withstood,
Which did it not relent and mildly ftray,
This world ere now had found its funeral day

What bands (incluster'd) near to these abide,
Which into vast infinity them hide?
Infinity that neither doth admit
Place, time, nor number to encroach on it:
Here Bounty fparkleth, here doth Beauty fhine,
Simplicity, more white than gelfomine,
Mercy with open wings, ay-varied bliss,

Glory, and Joy, that Blifs's darling is

Ineffable, all-pow'rful God, all free,, Thou only liv'ft, and each thing lives by thee; No joy, no, nor perfection to thee came By the contriving of this world's great frame; Ere fun, moon, fars began their restless race, Ere painted was with light heaven's pure face, Ere air had clouds, ere clouds wept down their

fhow'rs

Ere fea embraced earth, ere earth bare flow'r

Thou happy liv'dft; world nought to thee fupply'd,
All in thyself thy felf thou fatisfi'd:
Of good no flender fhadow doth appear,
No age-worn track, in thee which fhin'd not clear,
Perfection's fun, prime cause of every cause,
Midft, end, beginning where all good doth paufe:
Hence of thy fubstance, differing in nought,
Thou in eternity thy Son forth brought,
The only birth of thy unchanging mind,
Thine image, pattern-like that ever fhin'd,
Light out of light, begotten not by will
But nature, all and that fame effence ftill
Which thou thyself, for thou doft nought poffefs
Which he hath not, in nought nor is he less
Than thou his great begetter; of this light
Eternal, double-kindled was thy fpright
Eternally; who is with thee the fame,
All-holy gift, ambaffador, knot, flame :
Moft facred Triad, O most holy One,
Unprocreate Father, ever procreate Son,
Ghoft breath'd from both, you were, are, ftill
fhall be,

(Moft bleffed) Three in One, and One in Three,
Uncomprehenfible by reachlefs height,
And unperceived by exceffive light.

So in our fouls three and yet one are still,
The understanding, memory, and will;
So (though unlike) the planet of the days
So foon as he was made, begat his rays,
Which are his offsfpring, and from both was
hurl'd,

The rofy light which confolates the world,
And none fore-went another: So the spring,
The well-head and the ftream which they forth
bring,

Are but one felf-fame effence, nor in ought
Do differ, fave in order, and our thought
No chime of time difcerns in them to fall,
But three distinctly 'bide one effence all.
But thefe exprefs not thee: Who can declare
Thy being? Men and angels dazzl'd are.
Who would this Eden force with wit or sense,
A cherubim fhall find to bar him thence.

Great Architect, Lord of this Universe,
That light is blinded would thy greatness pierce.
Ah as a pilgrim who the Alps doth pass,
Or Atlas temples crown'd with winter glafs,
The airy Caucafus, the Appenine,
Pyrene's clifts where fun doth never shine,
When he some craggy hills hath over went,
Begins to think on reft, his journey spent,
Till mounting some tall mountain he doth find,
More heights before him than he left behind:
With halting pace fo while I would me raise
To the unbounded limits of thy praise,
Some part of way I thought to have o'er-run,
But now I fee how fcarce I have begun,
With wonders new my fpirits range poffeft,
And wandring waylefs in a maze them reft.
In these vaft fields of light etherial plains,
Thou art attended by immortal trains
Of intellectual pow'rs, which thou broughtft forth
To praise thy goodness, and admire thy worth,
In numbers paffing other creatures far,
Since most in number noblest creatures are,

Which do in knowledge us no lefs outrun,
Than moon in light doth stars, or noon the fun,
Unlike, in orders rang'd and many a band,
(If beauty in difparity doth ftand)
Arch-angels, angels, cherubs, seraphims,
And what with name of thrones amongst them
fhines,

Large-ruling princes, dominations, pow'rs,
All acting virtues of thofe flaming tow'rs;
Thefe freed of umbrage, these of labour free,
Reft ravished with still beholding thee,
Inflam'd with beams which sparkle from thy face,
They can no more defire, far lefs embrace.

Low under them, with flow and flaggering

pace

Thy handmaid nature thy great fteps doth trace,
The fource of fecond caufes, golden chain
That links this frame as thou doth it ordain ;
Nature gaz'd on with fuch a curious eye,
That earthlings oft her deem'd a deity.
By nature led those bodies fair and great,
Which faint not in their course, nor change their
state,

Unintermixt, which no disorder prové,
Though aye and contrary they always move,
The organs of thy providence divine,
Books ever open, figns that clearly shine,
Time's purpled maskers, then do them advance,
As by fweet music in a measur'd dance;
Stars hoft of heaven, ye firmament's bright flow'rs,
Clear lamps which overhang this stage of ours,
Ye turn not there to deck the weeds of night,
Nor pageant like to please the vulgar fight;
Great caufes fure ye must bring great effects,
But who can defcant right your grave aspects?
He only who you made decypher can
Your notes: Heavens eyes, ye blind the eyes of

man.

Amidst these fapphire far extending heights,
The never twinkling, ever wandring lights,
Their fixed motions keep, one dry and cold,
Deep-leaden-colour'd, flowly there is roll'd,
With rule and line for Time's steps metting even
In twice three luftres he but turns his heaven.
With temperate quality's and count'nancé fair,
Still mildly fmiling fweetly debonaire :
Another cheers the world, and way doth make
In twice fix autumns through the zodiac:
But hot and dry with flaming locks and brows
Enrag'd, this in his red pavilion glows:
Together running with like fpeed, if space,
Two equally in hands atchieve their race,
With blushing face this oft doth bring the day,
And ushers oft to ftately stars the way,
That various in virtue, changing light,
With his small flame impearls the vail of night,
Prince of this court, the fun in triumph rides,
With the year fnake-like in herself that glides,
Time's difpenfator, fair life-giving fource,
Through sky's twelve pofts as he doth ruu his
course,

Heart of this all, of what is known to sense,
The likeft to his Maker's excellence,
In whofe diurnal motion doth appear
A fhadow, no true portrait of the years