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and fruitful plains and barren rocks,
So strange a concourse ne'er was seen before, but when the peopled ark the whole creation bore.
The scene then chang'd, with bold erected look our martial king the sight with reverence strook : for, not content t express his outward part, her hand call’d out the image of his heart: his warlike mind, his soul devoid of fear, his high-designing thoughts were figur’d there, as when, by magic, ghosts are made appear. Our phoenix queen was pourtray'd too so bright, beauty alone could beauty take so right: her dress, her shape, her matchless grace, were all observ'd, as well as heavenly face, With such a peerless majesty she stands, asin that day she took the crown from sacred hands; before a train of heroines were seen, in beauty foremost, as in rank, the queen,
Thus nothing to her genius was deny'd but like a ball of fire the further thrown, still with a greater blaze she shone, and her bright soul broke out on every side. What next she had design’d, heaven only knows: to such immoderate growth her conquest rose, that Fate alone it's progress could
oppose. Now all those charms, that blooming grace, the well-proportion'd shape, and beauteous face, shall never more be seen by mortal eyes; in earth the much-lamented virgin lies.
Not wit, nor piety, could fate prevent;
to sweep at once her life and beauty too; but, like a barden'd felon, took a pride
to work more mischievously slow,
and plunder'd first, and then destroy'd. O double sacrilege on things divine, to rob the relic, and deface the shrine !
but thus Orinda dy'd; heaven, by the same disease, did both translate; as equal were their souls, so equal was their fate.
Meantime her warlike brother on the seas
his waving streamers to the winds displays, and vows for his return, with vain devotion, pays.
Ah, generous youth, that wish forbear,
the winds too soon will waft thee here! slack all thy sails, and fear to come, alas, thou know'st not, thou art wreck'd at home! no more shalt thou behold thy sister's face, thou hast already had her last embrace. But look aloft, and if thou ken’st from far among the Pleiads a new-kindled star,
if any sparkles than the rest more bright;
to raise the nations under ground;
when in the valley of Jehoshaphat,
and there the last assizes keep,
from the four corners of the sky; when sinews o'er the skeletons are spread, those cloth'd with Hesh, and life inspires the dead; the sacred poets first shall hear the sound,
and foremost from the tomb shall bound, for they are cover'd with the lightest ground; and straight, with in-born vigour, on the wing, like mounting larks, to the new morning sing. There thou, sweet Saint, before the quire shall go, and harbinger of heaven, the way to show, the way which thou so well hast learnt below.
ON THE DEATH OF A VERY YOUNG GENTLEMAN. He who could view the book of destiny, and read whatever there was writ of thee, O charming youth! in the first opening page, so many graces in so green an age, such wit, such modesty, such strength of mind, a soul at once so manly, and so kind, would wonder, when he turn’d the volume o'er, and after some new leaves should find no more, nought but a blank remain, a dead void space, a step of life that promis'd such a race. We must not, dare not think, that heaven began a child, and could not finish bim a man;
reflecting what a mighty store was laid
Thus then he disappear’d, was rarify'd;
As such we lov'd, admir'd, almost ador'd, gave all the tribute mortals could afford, perhaps we gave so much, the powers above grew angry at our superstitious love: for when we more than human homage pay, the charming cause is justly snatch'd away.
Thus was the crime not his, but our's alone: and yet we murmur that he went so soon; tho' miracles are short and rarely shown.
Hear then, ye mournful parents, and divide
SONG. FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY..
that lore in many, which in one was ty'd.
A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY, 1687:
this universal frame began:
of jarring atoms lay,
and could not heave her head, the tuneful voice was beard from high,
arise, ye more than dead. Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry, in order to their stations leap,
and Music's power obey. From harmony, from heavenly harmony,
this universal frame began:
from harmony to harmony
when Jubal struck the chorded shell,
to worship that celestial sound. Less than a God they thought there could not dwell
within the hollow of that shell,
that spoke so sweetly and so well. What passion cannot Music raise and quell?