Or fome great matter in his mind revolv'd. This utter'd, ftraining all his nerves he bow'd, He tugg'd, he took, till down they came and drew Chor Chor. O dearly-bought revenge, yet glorious! Living or dying thou haft fulfill'd The work for which thou waft foretold To Ifrael, and now ly'ft victorious Not willingly, but tangl'd in the fold, Of dire neceflity, whose law in death conjoin'd Semichor. While their hearts were jocond and [fublime, Drunk with Idolatry, drunk with Wine, And fat regorg'd of Bulls and Goats, Chaunting their Idol, and preferring Among them he a spirit of phrenzie fent, And urg'd them on with mad defire To call in hafte for their destroyer; They only fet on sport and play Their own destruction to come speedy upon them. So fond are mortal men. Fall'n Fall'n into wrath divine, As their own ruin on themselves t' invite, His fiery virtue rouz'd From under afhes into fudden flame, And as ev'ning Dragon came, Affailant on the perched roofts, And nefts in order rang'd Of tame villatick Fowl, but as an Eagle His cloudlefs thunder bolted on their heads. So virtue giv'n for loft, Depreft, and overthrown, as feem'd, Like that felf-begott'n Bird In the Arabian woods emboft, That no fecond knows nor third, And lay e'er while a Holocauft, From out her afhie womb now teem'd, Revives, reflourishes, then vigorous most When most unactive deem'd, And though her body die, her fame furvives, Man. Come, come, no time for lamentation now Nor much more cause, Samson hath quit himself Like Samfon, and heroickly hath finish'd A life Heroick, on his Enemies Fully reveng'd, hath left them years of mourning, Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame, nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death fo noble. Let us go find the body where it lies Sok'd in his enemies blood, and from the stream With lavers pure and cleanfing herbs wash off (Gaza (Gaza is not in plight to say us nay) Will fend for all my kindred, all my friends With filent obfequie and funeral train Home to his Father's houfe: there will I build him, A Monument, and plant it round with shade What th❜unsearchable dispose Of highest wisdom brings about, Oft he seems to hide his face, But unexpectedly returns And to his faithful Champion hath in place |