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But when of old the fons of morning sung,
And the well-balanc'd world on hinges hung,
And bid the weltring waves their oozy channel keep. XIII.
Ring out ye crystal Spheres,
(If ye have pow'r to touch our fenfes fo) And let your filver chime
Move in melodious time,.
And let the base of Heav'n's deep organ blow, And with your ninefold harmony Make up full confort to th' angelic fymphony.
For if fuch holy fong
Time will run back,and fetch the age of gold, 135
And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mold, And Hell itfelf will pass away, And leave her dolorous manfions to the peering day. XV.
Yea Truth and Juftice then
Will down return to men,
Orb'd in a rainbow; and like glories wearing Mercy will fit between, Thron'd in celestial fheen,
With radiant feet the tiffured clouds down fteering And Heav'n, as at fome feftival,
Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.
But wifeft Fate fays no,
The babe lies yet in smiling infancy,
Muft redeem our lofs;
So both himself and us to glorify:
With fuch a horrid clang
While the red fire, and fmouldring clouds out
Shall from the furface to the center shake;
When at the world's last feffion,
The dreadful Judge in middle air fhall spread his
And then at last our blifs
But now begins; for from this happy day.
Not half so far cafts his ufurped sway,
The oracles are dumb,
Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.
With hollow fhriek the steep of Delphos leaving.
No nightly trance, or breathed fpell
The lonely mountains o'er,
A voice of weeping heard and loud lament;
The parting Genius is with fighing fent : With flowr-inwoven treffes torn [mourn. The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets
In confecrated earth,
TheLars, and Lemures moan with midnight plaint; In urns, and altars round, A drear and dying found
Affrights the Flamens at their fervice quaint; And the chill marble feems to sweat, While each peculiar Pow'r forgoes his wonted feat. XXII.
Peor and Baälim
With that twice batter'd God of Palestine;
Now fits not girt with tapers holy fhine;
And fullen Moloch fled,
His burning idol all of blackest hue;
In difmal dance about the furnace blue
Isis and Orus, and the dog Anubis hafte.
Nor is Ofiris feen
In Memphian grove or green,
Trampling the unfhowr'd grafs with lowings loud: Nor can he be at reft
Within his facred cheft,
Nought but profoundest Hell can be his shroud;
The fable-ftoled forcerers bear his worshipt ark. 220
He feels from Juda's land ·
The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;
Not Typhon huge ending in fnaky twine
Can in his fwadling bands controll the damned crew.
So when the fun in bed,
Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,
The flocking fhadows pale
Each fetter'd ghoft flips to his feveral grave,
But fee the Virgin bleft
And the yellow-fkirted Fayes
Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov`d
Time is our tedious fong should here have ending: Heav'n's youngest teemed star Hath fix'd her polish'd car,
Her fleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending: And all about the courtly stable Bright-harnest Angels fit in order serviceable.
Rewhile of mufic, and ethereal mirth, Wherewith the stage of air and earth did ring, And joyous news of heav'nly Infant's birth, My Mufe with Angels did divide to fing; But headlong joy is ever on the wing,
In wintry folftice like the fhorten'd light Soon fwallow'd up in dark and long out-living night.
For now to forrow muft I tune my fong,
Moft perfect Hero, try'd in heaviest plight Of labors huge and hard, too hard for human wight!
He fov'ran Prieft ftooping his regal head,
Yet more; the ftroke of death he must abide, zo Then lies him meekly down faft by his brethrens fide.