Whilft thou, bright Saint, high fitft in glory, Next her much like to thee in story, That fair Syrian shepherdess, Who after years of barrennefs, The highly favour'd Joseph bore 65 To him that ferv'd for her before, And at her next birth much like thee, Of blazing Majesty and Light: There with thee, new welcome faint, Like fortunes may her foul acquaint, IX. Song. On May morning. Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, 70 Hail bounteous May that dost inspire Mirth and youth and warm defire; Woods and groves are of thy dreffing, Hill and dale doth boast thy bleffing. Thus we falute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long. X. On Shakespeare, 1630. ΤΟ WHAT needs my Shakespeare for his honor'd bones The labor of an age in piled stones, Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid Under a star-ypointing pyramid? Dear fon of Memory, great heir of Fame, What need'st thou fuch weak witnefs of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment! Haft built thyself a live-long monument. For whilft to th' fhame of flow-endevoring Art Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart. IQ Thofe Delphic lines with deep impreffion took, Doft make us marble with too much conceiving; XI. On the univerfity carrier, who fickened in the time of his vacancy,being forbid to go to London, by reafon of the plague. HERE lies old Hobfon; Death hath broke his girt, 5 Dodg'd with him, betwixt Cambridge and the Bull. But lately finding him so long at home, And thinking now his journey's end was come, In the kind office of a chamberlin ΤΟ Show'd him his room where he must lodge that night, Pull'd off his boots, and took away the light: If any ask for him, it shall be said, Hobfon has fupt, and's newly gone to bed. XII. Another on the fame. HERE lieth one, who did most truly prove So hung his destiny, never to rot While he might still jog on and keep his trot, 16 Time numbers motion, (yet without a crime Too long vacation hasten'd on his term. ΤΟ Merely to drive the time away he sicken'd, 15 20 Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd; He had been an immortal carrier. Only remains this fuperfcription. 30 And work my flatter'd fancy to belief, That Heav'n and Earth are color'd with my woe; The leaves should all be black whereon I write, 34 And letters where mytearshave wash'd a wannishwhite. VI. See, see the chariot, and those rushing wheels, VII. Mine eye hath found that sad sepulchral rock My plaining verse as lively as before; For fure fo well instructed are my tears, That they would fitly fall in order'd characters. VIII. Or fhould I thence hurried on viewless wing, 50 |