So Jefus flept: God's dying Son
Paft through the grave, and bleft the bed.
Reft here, fair faint; till from his throne
The morning break and pierce the shade..
IV.
Break from his throne, illuftrious morn;
Attend, O earth, his fovereign word;
Restore thy truft, a glorious form;
She must ascend to meet her Lord.
HUMAN FRAILTY. From Guarini.
Courted with fuch eager ftrife,
Is like a feather, which by winds is toft
In the fame moment rais'd and loft:
Or if it tries in giddy rounds to foar,
And in the air to dance,
As if by its own wings up bore
"Tis owing to the chance
Of its own natural levity;
Short-liv'd is all its gaiety,
A while it ftrays
Thro' the ten thousand winding ways,
The labyrinths o'th' azure plain;
But as from earth it rofe, to earth it falls again.
On PROVIDENCE. From Filicaia.
S a kind mother with indulgent eye
Views her fair charge,, and melts with sympathy, And one's dear face imprints with kiffes fweet, One to her bofom clafps, one on her knee,
Softly fuftains in pleafing dignity,
And one permits to cling about her feet;
And reads their various wants, and each request
In look, or action, or in figh exprefs'd:
This little fupplicant in gracious stile
She answers, that she bleffes with a smile;.
Or if she blames their fuit, or if approves,
And whether pleas'd, or griev'd, yet still she loves::
With like regard, high providence divine
Watches affectionate o'er human race
One feeds, one comforts, does to all incline,
And each affifts with kind parental care;
Or, once denying us fome needful grace,
Only denies to move an ardent pray'r,
Or, courted for imaginary wants,
Seems to deny, but in denying grants.
HYMN for the MORNING. By Mr. Flatman.
WAKE, my foul! awake mine eyes!
Awake my drowsy faculties;
Awake and fee the new-born light
Spring from the darkfome womb of night!
Look up and fee th' unweary'd fun,
Already has his race begun :
The pretty lark is mounted high,
And fings her matins in the sky.
Arife my foul! and thou my voice
In fongs of praife, early rejoice!
O great Creator! heavenly king!
Thy praises let me ever fing!
Thy power has made, thy goodness kept
This fenceless body while I flept,
Yet one day more haft given me,
From all the powers of darkness free.
O keep my heart from fin fecure,
My life unblameable and
That when the last of all my days is come,
Chearful and fearlefs I may wait my doom.
ANTHEM for the EVENING. By the fame,
LEEP! downy fleep! come clofe my eyes,
Tir'd with beholding vanities!
Sweet flumbers come and chafe away
The toils and follies of the day:
On your foft bofom will I lye,
Forget the world, and learn to die.
O Ifrael's watchful shepherd spread
Tents of angels round my bed:
Let not the spirits of the air,
While I flumber, me enfnare;
But fave thy fuppliant free from harms,
Clafp'd in thine everlasting arms.
Clouds and thick darkness is thy throne,
Thy wonderful pavilion:
Oh dart from thence a fhining ray,
And then my midnight fhall be day!
Thus when the morn in crimson dreft,
Breaks through the windows of the east,
My hymns of thankful praises fhall arife
Like incenfe or the morning facrifice.
EYES and TEARS. By Mr. Marvell.
[OW wifely nature did decree,
With the fame eyes to weep and fee!
That having view'd the object vain,
They might be ready to complain.
And, fince the felf-deluding fight,
In a falfe angle takes each height,
These tears, which better measure all,
Like wat❜ry lines and plummets fall.
Two tears, which forrow long did weigh,
Within the scales of either eye,
And then paid out in equal poife,
Are the true price of all my joys.
What in the world moft fair appears,
Yea, even laughter, turns to tears;
And all the jewels which we prize,
Melt in these pendents of the eyes.
I have thro' every garden been,
Amongst the red, the white, the green;
And yet from all these flow'rs I faw,
No honey, but these tears could draw.
So the all-feeing fun each day,
Distills the world with chymic ray ;
But finds the effence only fhowers,
Which ftreight in pity back he pours.
Yet happy they whom grief doth bless,
That weep the more, and see the less;
And to preserve their fight more true,
Bath still their eyes in their own dew.
So Magdalen, in tears more wise,
Diffolv'd thofe captivating eyes,
Whofe liquid chains could flowing meet,
To fetter her Redeemer's feet.
Not full fails hafting loaden home,
Nor the chafte lady's pregnant womb,
Nor Cynthia teeming, fhews fo fair,
As two eyes, fwoln with weeping, are.
The sparkling glance that shoots defire,
Drench'd in these waves, does lofe its fire.
Yea, oft the thund'rer pity takes,
And here the hiffing light'ning flakes.
The incense was to heaven dear,
Not as a perfume, but a tear!
And stars fhew lovely in the night,
But as they seem the tears of light.
Open then, mine eyes, your double fluice,
And practise so your nobleft use;
For others too can fee, or fleep,
But only human eyes can weep.
Now, like two clouds diffolving, drop,
And at each tear, in diftance ftop:
Now, like two fountains, trickle down;
Now like two floods o'er-run, and drown.
Thus let your streams o'erflow your fprings,
Till eyes and tears be the fame things;
And each the other's difference bears;
These weeping eyes, thofe feeing tears.
To a Gentleman who always gives a grand Entertainment on his Birth-day.
7HEN time his circling courfe began,
And duft affum'd the form of man,
His glafs run on nine hundred year,
And death by flow degrees drew near:
But now we mourn a fhorter thread,
At fixty number'd with the dead;
And thousands great, and wife and just,
In half that time return to dust.
Yet were this momentary life
But free from care, difeafe and ftrife;
Had heav'n, who bid our years decrease,
Fill'd up the lefs'ning span with peace,
With fmiling joy (a stranger guest!)
The few remaining moments bleft,
Then might we hold the vapour dear,
And blefs the fate that plac'd us here;
Hang fondly o'er the natal day,
And figh, when death commands away.
But as our present state is fix'd,
Our ev'ry sweet with wormwood mix'd;
Since life can fcarce one joy fupply,
And ere we learn to live, we die :
Since now our fleeting days are few,
Nor few alone, but evil too;
No more, O man! with thoughtless mirth,
Carefs the day that gave thee birth;
But fmite thy breaft with holy Job, and say,
Better the mortal than the natal day.
7HEN fickness shall affail
nobleft part,
And rufh impetuous on my throbbing heart;
When pain poffefs'd of ev'ry nerve appears,
And nought but palenefs my fall'n vilage wears;
When ev'ry earthly wifh fhall fade away,
And death fhall chill the stiff'ning corfe to clay,
Do thou, great God! in that furprising hour,
Sullain my foul by thy almighty power:
Let faith, let hope, let ecftaly of love,
Wing me to reach the blissful scenes above,
And join the choir where each thy glory fings,
There let me hail adore the King of Kings.
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