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And merely mortal dross;

So little is our loss,

So little is thy gain.

For when as each thing bad thou hast intomb'd,

And last of all thy greedy self consum'd,

Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss

With an individual kiss;

And Joy shall overtake us as a flood,

When every thing that is sincerely good

And perfectly divine,

With truth, and peace, and love, shall ever shine About the supreme throne

Of him, t' whose happy-making sight alone When once our heav'nly-guided soul shall climb, Then all this earthly grossness quit,

Attir'd with stars, we shall for ever sit,




Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O Time.


YE flaming Pow'rs, and winged Warriors bright,
That erst with music, and triumphant song,
First heard by happy watchful shepherds' ear,
So sweetly sung your joy the clouds along

12 individual] Inseparable. P. L. iv. 485.

1 flaming] So P. Lost, ix. 156. xi. 101.

v. 610.



Through the soft silence of the list'ning night;
Now mourn, and if sad share with us to bear
Your fiery essence can distil no tear,
Burn in your sighs, and borrow

Seas wept from our deep sorrow:

He who with all heav'n's heraldry whilere Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us ease; Alas, how soon our sin

Sore doth begin

His infancy to seize !

O more exceeding love, or law more just!
Just law indeed, but more exceeding love!
For we by rightful doom remediless
Were lost in death, till he that dwelt above
High thron'd in secret bliss, for us frail dust
Emptied his glory, ev'n to nakedness;





And that great covenant which we still transgress Entirely satisfied,

And the full wrath beside

Of vengeful justice bore for our excess,

And seals obedience first, with wounding smart,

This day, but O ere long,

Huge pangs and strong

Will pierce more near his heart.


17 remediless] P. Lost, ix. 919. Sams. Agon. v. 648. 'all remediless.' Warton, Todd.


BLEST pair of Sirens, pledges of heav'n's joy,
Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse,
Wed your divine sounds, and mix'd pow'r employ
Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce;
And to our high-rais'd phantasy present
That undisturbed song of pure concent,
Aye sung before the sapphire-colour'd throne
To him that sits thereon,

With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee,

Where the bright Seraphim in burning row 10
Their loud up-lifted angel-trumpets blow,
And the cherubic host in thousand quires
Touch their immortal harps of golden wires,
With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms,
Hymns devout and holy psalms

Singing everlastingly:

That we on earth with undiscording voice
May rightly answer that melodious noise;
As once we did, till disproportion'd sin



* There are three copies of this ode, all in Milton's own nand writing.

6 concent] So the Cant. MS. not 'consent.' Ed. 1645, 'content;' 1673, 'concent.' Warton.

12 'And Cherubim sweet winged Squires.' So Cant. MS.



Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsh din
Broke the fair music that all creatures made
To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway'd
In perfect diapason, whilst they stood


In first obedience, and their state of good.
O may we soon again renew that song,
And keep in tune with Heav'n, till God ere long
To his celestial consort us unite,

To live with him, and sing in endless morn of light.


THIS rich marble doth inter

The honour'd wife of Winchester,

A Viscount's daughter, an Earl's heir,
Besides what her virtues fair

Added to her noble birth,

More than she could own from earth.
Summers three times eight save one
She had told; alas! too soon,
After so short time of breath,

To house with darkness, and with death.
Yet had the number of her days
Been as complete as was her praise,
Nature and Fate had had no strife

In giving limit to her life.

20 nature's chime] Jonson's Epithal. vol. vii. 2.

'To do their offices in nature's chime. Warton.


Her high birth, and her graces sweet
Quickly found a lover meet;

The virgin quire for her request
The God that sits at marriage feast;

He at their invoking came,

But with a scarce well-lighted flame;
And in his garland as he stood,
Ye might discern a cyprus bud.
Once had the early matrons run
To greet her of a lovely son,
And now with second hope she goes,
And calls Lucina to her throes;
But whether by mischance or blame
Atropos for Lucina came;
And with remorseless cruelty

Spoil'd at once both fruit and tree:
The hapless babe before his birth
Had burial, yet not laid in earth,
And the languish'd mother's womb
Was not long a living tomb.
So have I seen some tender slip,
Sav'd with care from winter's nip,
The pride of her carnation train,

19 He] See Ov. Metam. x. 4.

'Adfuit ille quidem: sed nec solennia verba,
Nec letos vultus, nec felix attulit omen:

Fax quoque, quam tenuit, lacrymoso stridula fumo, Usque fuit, nullosque invenit motibus ignes.' Jortin. 88 womb] Browne's Brit. Past. b. ii. s. 1. ed. 1616. 'Where never plowshare ript his mother's wombe To give an aged seede a living tombe.'







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