The leaves should all be black whereon I write, And letters, where my tears have wash'd, a wannish white. VI. Sec, see the chariot, and those rushing wheels, In pensive trance, and anguish, and ecstatick fit. VII. Mine eye hath found that sad sepulchral rock For sure so well instructed are my tears, VIII. Or should I thence hurried on viewless wing Would soon unbosom all their echoes mild; Might think the infection of my sorrows loud Had got a race of mourners on some pregnant cloud. The subject the Author finding to be above the years he had, when he wrote it, and nothing satisfied with what was begun, left it unfinished. UPON THE CIRCUMCISION. YE flaming Powers, and winged Warriours bright, Burn in your sighs, and borrow Seas wept from our deep sorrow : He, who with all Heaven's heraldry whilere Sore doth begin His infancy to seise! O more exceeding love, or law more just? For we, by rightful doom remediless, Were lost in death, till he, that dwelt above And that great covenant which we still transgress And the full wrath beside Of vengeful justice bore for our excess ; And seals obedience first, with wounding smart, This day; but O! ere long, Huge pangs and strong Will pierce more near his heart. ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT, DYING OF A COUGH. I. O FAIREST flower, no sooner blown but blasted, Soft silken primrose fading timelessly, Summer's chief honour, if thou hadst out-lasted Bleak Winter's force that made thy blossom dry; For he, being amorous on that lovely dye That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss, But kill'd, alas! and then bewail'd his fatal bliss. II. For since grim Aquilo, his charioteer, |