Or hath she here, upon the ground, Some Paradise or palace found, In all the bounds of Beauty, fit For her t' inhabit? There is it. Thrice happy house, that hast receipt For this so lofty form, so streight, So polish'd, perfect, round and even, BaAs it slid moulded off from heaven. Not swelling like the ocean proud,

But stooping gently, as a cloud,
As smooth as oil pour'd forth, and calm
As showers, and sweet as drops of balm.
Smooth, soft, and sweet, in all a flood,
Where it may run to any good;
And where it stays, it there becomes
A nest of odorous spice and gums.
In action, winged as the wind;
In rest, like spirits left behind
Upon a bank, or field of flowers,
Begotten by the wind and showers.

In thee, fair mansion, let it rest,
Yet know, with what thou art possest,
Thou, entertaining in thy breast

But such a mind, mak'st God thy guest.

[A whole quaternion in the midst of this poem is lost, containing entirely the three next pieces of it, and all

of the fourth (which in the order of the whole is the eighth) excepting the very end: which at the top of the next quaternion goeth on thus.]

When your own virtues equall'd have their names,
'Twill be but fair to lean upon their fames;
For they are strong supporters: but, till then,
The greatest are but growing gentlemen.
It is a wretched thing to trust to reeds;
Which all men do, that urge not their own deeds
Up to their ancestors; the river's side

By which you're planted shews your fruit shall bide.
Hang all your rooms with one large pedigree:
Tis virtue alone is true nobility:

Which virtue from your father, ripe, will fall;
Study illustrious him, and you have all.

IX.

KLEGY ON MY MUSE, THE TRULY HONOURED LADY, THE LADY VENETIA DIGBY; WHO LIVING, GAVE ME LEAVE TO CALL HER SO. BEING HER АПO@ENZIE, OR, RELATION

TO THE SAINTS.

Sera quidem tanto struitur medicina dolore. 'Twere time that I dy'd too, now she is dead, Who was my Muse, and life of all I said;

The spirit that I wrote with, and conceiv'd:
All that was good, or great with me, she weav'd,
And set it forth; the rest were cobwebs fine,
Spun out in name of some of the old Nine,
To hang a window, or make dark the room,
Till swept away, they were cancell'd with a broom!
Nothing that could remain, or yet can stir
A sorrow in me, fit to wait to her!

O! had I seen her laid out a fair corse,
By death, on earth, I should have had remorse
On Nature for her; who did let her lie,
And saw that portion of herself to die.
Sleepy or stupid Nature, couldst thou part
With such a rarity, and not rouze Art,
With all her aids, to save her from the seize
Of vulture Death, and those relentless cleis ?
Thou wouldst have lost the Phoenix, had the kind
Been trusted to thee; not to itself assign'd.
Look on thy sloth, and give thyself undone,
(For so thou art with me) now she is gone:
My wounded mind cannot sustain this stroke,
It rages, runs, flies, stands, and would provoke
The world to ruin with it; in her fall,

I sum up mine own breaking, and wish all.
Thou hast no more blows, Fate, to drive at one;
What's left a poet, when his Muse is gone?
Sure I am dead, and know it not! I feel
Nothing I do but like a heavy wheel,
Am turned with another's powers: my passion
Whirls me about, and, to blaspheme in fashion,
I murmur against God, for having ta'en
Her blessed soul hence, forth this valley vain
Of tears, and dungeon of calamity!
I envy it the angels' amity,

The joy of saints, the crown for which it lives,
The glory and gain of rest, which the place gives!
Dare I profane so irreligious be,

To greet or grieve her soft euthanasy!
So sweetly taken to the court of bliss,
As spirits had stolen her spirit in a kiss,
From off her pillow and deluded bed;
And left her lovely body unthought dead ;
Indeed she is not dead! but laid to sleep
In earth, till the last trump awake the sheep
And goats together, whither they must come
To hear their Judge, and his eternal doom;
To have that final retribution,
Expected with the flesh's restitution.
For, as there are three natures, schoolmen call
One corporal only, th' other spiritual,
Like single; so there is a third commixt,
Of body and spirit together, placed betwixt
Those other two; which must be judged or crown'd:
This, as it guilty is, or guiltless found,
Must come to take a sentence, by the sense
Of that great evidence, the Conscience,
Who will be there, against that day prepared,
T'accuse or quit all parties to be heard!
O day of joy, and surety to the just,
Who in that feast of resurrection trust!
That great eternal holy day of rest

To body and soul, where love is all the guest!
And the whole banquet is full sight of God,
Of joy the circle, and sole period!
All other gladness with the thought is barr'd;
Hope hath her end, and Faith hath her reward!
This being thus, why should my tongue or pen
Presume to interpel that fulness, when
Nothing can more adorn it than the seat
That she is in, or make it more complete ?

Better be dumb than superstitious:
Who violates the Godhead, is most vicious
Against the nature he would worship. He
Will honour'd be in all simplicity,

Have all his actions wonder'd at, and view'd
With silence and amazement; not with rude,
Dull and profane, weak and imperfect eyes,
Have busy search made in his mysteries!

He knows what work he hath done, to call this
Out of her noble body to this feast: [guest,
And give her place according to her blood
Amongst her peers, those princes of all good!
Saints, Martyrs, Prophets, with those Hierarchies,
Angels, Arch-angels, Principalities,

The Dominations, Virtues, and the Powers,
The Thrones, the Cherubs, and Seraphic bowers,
That, planted round, there sing before the Lamb
A new song to his praise, and great I AM :
And she doth know, out of the shade of death,
What 'tis to enjoy an everlasting breath!
To have her captived spirit freed from flesh,
And on her innocence, a garment fresh
And white as that put on and in her hand
With boughs of palm, a crowned victrice stand
And will you, worthy son, sir, knowing this,
Put black and mourning on? and say you miss
A wife, a friend, a lady, or a love;

Whom her Redeemer honour'd hath above
Her fellows, with the oil of gladness, bright
In heaven's empire, and with a robe of light?
Thither you hope to come; and there to find
That pure, that precious, and exalted mind
You once enjoy'd: a short space severs ye,
Compared unto that long eternity,

That shall rejoin ye. Was she, then, so dear,
When she departed? you will meet her there,
Much more desired, and dearer than before,
By all the wealth of blessings, and the store
Accumulated on her, by the Lord
Of life and light, the son of God, the Word!
There all the happy souls that ever were,
Shall meet with gladness in one theatre;
And each shall know there one another's face,
By beatific virtue of the place.

There shall the brother with the sister walk,
And sons and daughters with their parents talk;
But all of God; they still shall have to say,
But make him All in All, their Theme, that day;
That happy day that never shall see night!
Where he will be all beauty to the sight;
Wine or delicious fruits unto the taste;
A music in the ears will ever last;
Unto the scent, a spicery or balm;
And to the touch, a flower like soft as palm.
He will all glory, all perfection be,
God in the Union, and the Trinity!
That holy, great, and glorious mystery,
Will there revealed be in majesty !
By light and comfort of spiritual grace!
The vision of our Saviour face to face
In his humanity! to hear him preach
The price of our redemption, and to teach
Through his inherent righteousness, in death,
The safety of our souls, and forfeit breath!

What fulness of beatitude is here!
What love with mercy mixed doth appear,
To style us friends, who were by nature foes!
Adopt us heirs by grace, who were of those
Had lost ourselves, and prodigally spent
Our native portions, and possessed rent!

Yet have all debts forgiven us, and advance
By' imputed right to an inheritance
In his eternal kingdom, where we sit
Equal with angels, and co-heirs of it.
Nor dare we under blasphemy conceive
He that shall be our supreme judge, shall leave
Himself so uninform'd of his elect,
Who knows the hearts of all, and can dissect
The smallest fibre of our flesh; he can
Find all our atoms from a point t' a span:
Our closest creeks and corners, and can trace
Each line, as it were graphic, in the face.
And best he knew her noble character,
For 'twas himself who form'd and gave it her.
And to that form lent two such veins of blood,
As nature could not more increase the flood
Of title in her! all nobility

But pride, that schism of incivility,
She had, and it became her! she was fit
T' have known no envy, but by suff'ring it!
She had a mind as calm as she was fair;
Not tost or troubled with light lady-air,
But kept an even gait, as some straight tree
Mov'd by the wind, so comely moved she.
And by the awful manage of her eye,
She sway'd all bus'ness in the family.
To one she said, do this, he did it; so
To another, move, he went; to a third, go,
He ran; and all did strive with diligence
T' obey, and serve her sweet commandements.
She was in one a many parts of life;
A tender mother, a discreeter wife,
A solemn mistress, and so good a friend,
So charitable to religious end

In all her petite actions, so devote,

As her whole life was now become one note
Of piety and private holiness.

She spent more time in tears herself to dress
For her devotions, and those sad essays
Of sorrow, than all pomp of gaudy days;
And came forth ever cheered with the rod
Of divine comfort, when she had talk'd with God
Her broken sighs did never miss whole sense;
Nor can the bruised heart want eloquence:
For prayer is the incense most perfumes
The holy altars, when it least presumes.
And hers were all humility! they beat
The door of grace, and found the mercy-seat.
In frequent speaking by the pious psalms
Her solemn hours she spent, or giving alms,
Or doing other deeds of charity,

To clothe the naked, feed the hungry. She
Would sit in an infirmary whole days
Poring, as on a map, to find the ways
To that eternal rest, where now she hath place
By sure election and predestin'd grace!
She saw her Saviour, by an early light,
Incarnate in the manger, shining bright
On all the world! she saw him on the cross
Suff'ring and dying to redeem our loss.
She saw him rise triumphing over death.
To justify and quicken us in breath;
She saw him too in glory to ascend
For his designed work the perfect end
Of raising, judging and rewarding all
The kind of man, on whom his doom should fall!
All this by faith she saw, and fram'd a plea,
In manner of a daily apostrophe,
To him should be her judge, true God, true Man,
Jesus, the only-gotten Christ! who can,

As being redeemer and repairer too
Of lapsed nature, best knew what to do,
In that great act of judgment, which the father
Hath given wholly to the son (the rather
As being the son of man) to shew his power,
His wisdom, and his justice, in that hour,
The last of hours, and shutter up of all;
Where first his power will appear, by call
Of all are dead to life; his wisdom show
In the discerning of each conscience so;
And most his justice, in the fitting parts,
And giving dues to all mankind's deserts!

wine.

13 Let the company be neither noisy nor mute. 14 Let none of things serious, much less of divine, When belly and head's full, profanely dispute.

VII.

15 Let no saucy fidler presume to intrude, Unless he is sent for to vary our bliss.

16 With mirth, wit, and dancing, and singing conclude,

To regale every sense, with delight in excess.

VIII.

17 Let raillery be without malice or heat. 18 Dull poems to read let none privilege take. 19 Let no poetaster command or intreat Another extempore verses to make.

Nor jars interpose, sacred friendship to grieve. 21 For generous lovers let a corner be found, Where they in soft sighs may their passions relieve.

X.

22 Like the old Lapithites, with the goblets to fight,

Our own 'mongst offences unpardon'd will rank,
Or breaking of windows, or glasses, for spight,
And spoiling the goods for a rakehelly prank.

XI.

23 Whoever shall publish what's said, or what's done,

Be he banish'd for ever our assembly divine. 24 Let the freedom we take be perverted by none, To make any guilty by drinking good wine.