.LV.

Melchor's SONG.

WHilft Melchor to his Harp with wond'rous skill

(For fuch were Poets then,and fhould be ftill")
His noble Verfe through Nature's Secrets lead;
He fung what Spirit,through the whole Mass is spread
Ev'ry where all; how Heaven's God's Law approve,
And think it Reft eternally to Moves

How the kind Sun ufefully comes and goes,
Wants it himfelf, yet gives to Man repofe
How his round Journey does for ever laft,
And how he baits at every Sea in hafte.

He fung how Earth blots the Moon's gilded Wanes
Whilft foolish Men beat founding Brass-in vain.
Why the Great Waters her flight Horns obey,
Her changing Horns, not conftanter than they
He fung how grilly Comets hang in Air,
Why Sword and Plague attend their fatal Hair.
God's Beacons for the World, drawn up fo far,
To publifh ill, and raife all Earth to War.
Why Contraries feed Thunder in the Cloud,
What Motions vex it, till it roar fo loud.
How Lambent Fires become fo wond'rous Tame,
And bear fuch Shining Winter in their Flame.
What radiant Pencil draws the matry Bow:
What ties up Hail, and picks the fleecy Snow.
What Palfy of the Earth here fakes fixt Hills
From off her Brows, and here whole Rivers fpills
Thus did this Heathen Nature's Secrets tell,
And fometimes mift the Cause, but fought it well.
Cowley Davrdeis.

LVI.

The Wish

I.

WELL then; I now do plainly fee,

This bufie World and I fhall ne're agree

The very Honey of all Earthly Joy
Does of all Meats the fooneft Cloy:
And they, methinks, deferve my pity,
Who for it can endure the Stings
The Crowd, and Buz, and Murmurings
Of this great Hive the City.

2.

Ah, yet, e're I defcend to th' Grave

May I a Small Houfe, and large Garden have!
And a few Friends, and many Books, both true,
Both wife, and both delightful too!
And fince Love ne'er will from me flee,

A Mistress moderately fair,

And good as Guardian- Angels are,

Only belov'd, and loving me!

3.

Oh, Fountains, when in you fhall I My felf, eas'd of unpeaceful Thoughts efpy? Oh Fields! Oh Woods! When, when fhall I be made The happy Tenant of your Shade?

Here's the Spring-Head of Pleafure's Flood; Where all the Riches lie, that the

Has coin'd and ftamp'd for Good.

4.

Pride and Ambition here,

Only in far-fetch'd Metaphors appear;

Here nought but Winds can hurtful Murmurs fcatter,

And nought but Eccho flatter.

The

The Gods, when they defcended, hither
From Heav'n did always chufe their way;
And therefore we may boldly fay,
That 'tis the way too thither.

5.

How happy here fhould I,

And one dear he live, and embracing dye?
She who is all the World, and can exclude
In Defarts Solitude.

I fhould have then this only fear,
Left Men when they my Pleafures fee,
Should hither throng to live like me,
And fo make a City here..

Comleyla

LVII:

The God of Sloth.

UPON a Couch of Down in thefe Abodes,

Supine with folded Arms he thoughtless NodsIndulging Dreams his Godhead lull to Eafe, With Murmurs of foft Rills, and whifp'ring Trees. The Poppy and each numming Plant difpenfe Their drowzy Virtue, and dull Indolence. No Paffions interrupt his eafy Reign, No Problems puzzle his Lethargick Brain. But dark Oblivion guards his peaceful Bed, And lazy Fogs hang ling'ring o're his Head. As at full Length the pamper'd Monarch lay Batt'ning in Eafe, and flumb'ring Life away: The flumb'ring God amaz'd at fome new din, Thrice ftrove to rife, and thrice funk down again. Liftless he stretch'd, and gaping rubb'd his Eyes, Then falter'd thus betwixt half Words and Sigh Dr. Garth's Difp

I 2..

LVIH.

CHRIST'S Paffion.

Taken out of a Greck ODE. Written by Mr.. Mafters of New-College in Oxford.

F.

Enough, my Mufe of Earthly Things,.
And Infpirations but of Wind, if
Take up thý Lute, and to it bind
Loud and everlasting Strings;
And on 'em play, and to 'em fing.
The happy mournful Stories,
The lamentable Glories,,

Of the great crucified King..

Mountainous heap of wonders! which does rife
Till Earth thou joyneft with the Skies!
Foo large at Bottom, and at Top too high,
To be half feen by Mortal Eye.

How fhall grafp this boundless Thing!
What fhall play? what falling?

I'll fing the mighty Riddle of Myfterious Love,
Which neither wretched Men below, nor bleffed
(Spirits above,
With all their Comments, can explain,

How all the whole World's Life to die did not disdain.

12.

I'll fing the fearchlefs Depths of the Compaffion (Divine,

The Depths unfathom'd yet

By Reafon's Plummet, and the Line of Wit,
oo light the Plummet, and too fhort the Line.

How

How the Eternal Father did beflow His own Eternal Son as Ranfom for his Foe, I'll fing aloud, that all the World may hear The Triumph of the buried Conqueror. How Hell was by its Pris'ner captive led, And the great Slayer, Death, flain by the Dead.

3.

Methinks I hear of nurthered Men the Voice
Mixt with the Murtherers confufed Noife, .
Sound from the Top of Calvary,
My greedy Eyes fly up the Hill, and fee
Who 'tis Hangs there, the midmoft of the Three,
Oh, how unlike the others, He!

Look how he bends his gentle Head with Bleffings
(from the Tree!
His gracious Hands, ne'r ftretcht but to do good,
Are nail'd to the infamous wood;

And finful Man does fondly bind

The Arms, which he extends t'embrace all humane

Unhappy Man, canft thou ftand by, and fee

All this as patient, as He?

Since he thy Sins does bear,

Make thou his Sufferings thine own,

And weep, and figh, and groan,
And beat thy Breaft, and tear.

Thy Garments and thy Hair,

And let thy Grief, and let thy Love

Through all thy Bleeding Bowels move.

(kind

Doft thou not fee thy Prince in Purple clad all o're,
Not Purple brought from the Sidonian Shore,
But made at Home with richer gore?
Do'st thou not fee the Rofes, which adorn
Thy Thorny Garland, by him worn

Do