On TIM E.

LY envious Time, till thou run out thy race, Call on the lazy leaden ftepping hours, Whofe speed is but the heavy plummets pace, And glut thy felf with what thy womb devours, Which is no more than what is falfe and vain, And meerly mortal drofs;

So little is our lofs,

So little is thy gain.

For when as each thing bad thou haft entomb'd,

Then long Eternity hall greet our blifs

And last of all thy greedy felf confum'd,

With an individual kifs;

And joy fhall overtake us as a flood,

When every thing that is fincerely good,

And perfectly divine,

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With Truth, and Peace, and Love shall ever shine

About the fupreme Throne

Of him, t'whofe happy-making fight alone,

When once our Heav'nly-guided Soul fhall clime, Then all this earthy grofnefs quit,

Attir'd with Stars, we fhall for ever fit,

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

YE

Upon the Circumcifion.

E flaming Powers, & winged Warriours bright, That erft with Mufick, and triumphant Song, First heard by happy watchful Shepherds ear, So fweetly fung your joy the clouds along Through the foft filence of the lift'ing night; Now mourn, and if fad fhare with us to bear Your fiery effence can diftil no tear,

Burn

Burn in your fighs, and borrow

Seas wept from our deep forrow,

He who with all Heav'ns heraldry whil-ere

Enter'd the World, now bleeds to give us cafe;
Alas, how foon our fin

Sore doth begin

His infancy to feize!

O more exceeding love or law more just;
Juft law indeed, but more exceeding love!
For we by rightful doom remedilefs

Were loft in death, till he that dwelt above
High thron'd in fecret blifs, for us frail duft
Emptied his glory, ev'n to nakedness;

And that great Cov'nant which we still tranfgrefs
Intirely fatisfi'd,

And the full wrath befide

Of vengeful Juftice bore for our excess,

And feals obedience firft with wounding smart
This day, but O ere long

Huge pangs and strong

Will pierce more near his heart.

Bef

At a folemn Mufick.

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Left pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav'ns joy.
Sphear-born harmonious Sifters, Voice & Verfe,
Wed your divine founds, and mixt power employ
Dead things with inbreath'd fenfe able to pierce,
And to our high-rais'd phantafie present
That undisturbed Song of pure content,
Ay fung before the faphire-colour'd throne
To him that fits thereon

With faintly fhout, and folemn jubily,
Where the bright Seraphim in burning row
Their loud up-lifted Angel trumpets blow,
And the cherubick hoft in thoufand quires
Touch their immortal Harps of golden wires,

M4

5

IQ

With

With thofe juft Spirits that wear victorious palms,
Hymns devote and holy plalms

Singing everlaftingly;

That we on Earth with undifcording voice
May rightly answer that melodious noife;
As once we did, till disproportion'd fin

Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsh din
Broke the fair Mufick that all creatures made

To their great Lord, whofe love their motion fway'd In perfect diapafon, whilft they flood

In firft obedience, and their ftate of good,

O may we foon again renew that Song,

And keep in tune with Heav'n, till God ere long
To his celeftial confort us unite,

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To live with him, & fing in endless morn of light,

ΑΝ

EPITAPH

ΟΝ ΤΗ Ε

Marchioness of Winchefter.

'HIS rich Marble doth enter

The honour'd Wife of Winchefter,
A Vicount's daughter, an Earl's heir,
Befides what her virtues fair

Added to her noble birth,

More than he could own from earth.
Summers three times eight fave one
She had told, alas too foon,

After fo fhort time of breath,

To houfe with darkness, and with death.
Yet had the number of her days

Been as compleat as her praife,

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Nature