But when of old the fons of morning sung,
While the Creator great
His conftellations fet,

And the well-balanc'd world on hinges hung,
And calt the dark foundations deep,

And bid the weltring waves their oozy channel keep. XIII.

Ring out ye crystal Spheres,
Once blefs our human ears,

(If ye have pow'r to touch our fenfes fo) And let your filver chime

120

125

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.

137

XIV.

For if fuch holy fong
Inwrap our fancy long,

Time will run back,and fetch the age of gold, 135
And fpeckled Vanity
Will ficken foon and die,

And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mold, And Hell itfelf will pass away, And leave her dolorous manfions to the peering day. XV.

139

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,

145

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

5

1

5

XVI.

But wifeft Fate fays no,
This must not yet be fo,

The babe lies yet in smiling infancy,
That on the bitter crofs

Muft redeem our lofs;

So both himself and us to glorify:
Yet first to thofe ychain'd in fleep,
[deep,
The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the
XVII.

150

With fuch a horrid clang
As on mount Sinai rang,

While the red fire, and fmouldring clouds out
The aged earth aghaft,
With terror of that blaft,

[brake:

Shall from the furface to the center shake;

When at the world's last feffion,

[throne.

The dreadful Judge in middle air fhall spread his

XVIII.

165

And then at last our blifs
Full and perfect is,

But now begins; for from this happy day.
Th' old Dragon under ground
In ftraiter limits bound,

Not half so far cafts his ufurped sway,
And wroth to fee his kingdom fail,
Swindges the fcaly horror of his folded tail.
XIX.

170

The oracles are dumb,
No voice or hideous hum

Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.
Apollo from his fhrine
Can no more divine,

176

With hollow fhriek the steep of Delphos leaving.

No nightly trance, or breathed fpell
Infpires the pale-ey'd prieft from the prophetic cell.

179

XX.

The lonely mountains o'er,
And the refounding fhore,

A voice of weeping heard and loud lament;
From haunted fpring, and dale
Edg'd with poplar pale,

185

The parting Genius is with fighing fent : With flowr-inwoven treffes torn [mourn. The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets

XXI.

In confecrated earth,
And on the holy hearth,

190

TheLars, and Lemures moan with midnight plaint; In urns, and altars round, A drear and dying found

195

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
Forfake their temples dim,

With that twice batter'd God of Palestine;
And mooned Ashtaroth,
Heav'n's queen and mother both,

Now fits not girt with tapers holy fhine;
The Lybic Hammon fhrinks his horn,
In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz

[mourn.

XXIII.

And fullen Moloch fled,
Hath left in fhadows dread

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205

His burning idol all of blackest hue;
In vain with cymbals ring
They call the grilly king,

In difmal dance about the furnace blue
The brutish Gods of Nile as fast,

Isis and Orus, and the dog Anubis hafte.
XXIV.

Nor is Ofiris feen

In Memphian grove or green,

Trampling the unfhowr'd grafs with lowings loud: Nor can he be at reft

216

Within his facred cheft,

Nought but profoundest Hell can be his shroud;
In vain with timbrel'd anthems dark

The fable-ftoled forcerers bear his worshipt ark. 220
XXV.

He feels from Juda's land ·
The dreaded Infant's hand,

210

The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;
Nor all the Gods befide,
Longer dare abide,

Not Typhon huge ending in fnaky twine
Our babe to fhow his Godhead true,

Can in his fwadling bands controll the damned crew.

XXVI.

So when the fun in bed,
Curtain'd with cloudy red,

Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,

The flocking fhadows pale
Troop to th' infernal jail,

Each fetter'd ghoft flips to his feveral grave,

XXVII.

But fee the Virgin bleft
Hath laid her Babe to reft,

03

225

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And the yellow-fkirted Fayes

235

Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov`d

[maze.

Time

Time is our tedious fong should here have ending: Heav'n's youngest teemed star Hath fix'd her polish'd car,

240

Her fleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending: And all about the courtly stable Bright-harnest Angels fit in order serviceable.

IV.

The PASSION.

I.

E

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,

5

In wintry folftice like the fhorten'd light Soon fwallow'd up in dark and long out-living night.

II.

For now to forrow muft I tune my fong,
And fet my harp to notes of faddeft woe,
Which on our dearest Lord did feife ere long,
Dangers, and fnares, and wrongs, and worfe than fo,
Which he for us did freely undergo:

10

Moft perfect Hero, try'd in heaviest plight Of labors huge and hard, too hard for human wight!

III.

15

He fov'ran Prieft ftooping his regal head,
That dropt with odorous oil down his fair eyes,
Poor fleshly tabernacle entered,
His ftarry front low-rooft beneath the skies;
O what a mask was there, what a disguise!

Yet more; the ftroke of death he must abide, zo Then lies him meekly down faft by his brethrens fide.

Thefe