It so much loves; and fill the room
My heart keeps empty in thy tomb.
Stay for me there; I will not faile
To meet thee in that hollow vale.
And think not much of my delay:
I am already on the way,

And follow thee with all the speed
Desire can make, or sorrows breed.
Each minute is a short degree,

And ev'ry houre a step towards thee.

DR. H. KING.

CI

HYMN TO LIGHT

THOU tide of glory which no rest dost know,

But ever ebb and ever flow!

Thou golden shower of a true Jove!

Who does in thee descend, and Heav'n to earth make love.

Say from what golden quivers of the sky,

Do all thy winged arrows fly?

Swiftness and power by birth are thine :

From thy great sire they came, thy sire the word Divine.

Thou in the moon's bright chariot proud and gay,
Dost thy bright wood of stars survey;

And all the year dost with thee bring

Of thousand flowry lights thine own nocturnal spring.

Thou Scythian-like dost round thy lands above
The Sun's gilt tent for ever move,

And still as thou in pomp do'st go,

The shining pageants of the world attend thy show.

When, goddess, thou lift'st up thy wak'ned head,
Out of the morning's purple bed,

Thy quire of birds about thee play,

And all the joyful world salutes the rising day.

All the world's brav'ry that delights our eyes
Is but thy sev'ral liveries,

Thou the rich dye on them bestow'st ;

Thy nimble pencil paints this landscape as thou go'st.

A crimson garment in the rose thou wear'st;
A crown of studded gold thou bear'st;

The virgin lillies in their white,

Are clad but with the lawn of almost naked light.

With flame condens'd thou do'st thy jewels fix,

And solid colours in it mix :

Flora herself envies to see

Flowers fairer than her own, and durable as she.

Through the soft wayes of Heav'n, and air, and sea,
Which open all their pores to Thee,

Like a clear river thou do'st glide,

And with thy living stream through the close channels slide.

But the vast ocean of unbounded day

In th' empyræan Heaven does stay.

Thy rivers, lakes, and springs below,

From thence took first their rise, thither at last must flow.

CII

A. COWLEY.

FAITH AND REASON

SOME blind themselves, 'cause possibly they may
Be led by others a right way;

They build on sands, which if unmov'd they find,
"Tis but because there was no wind.

Less hard 'tis, not to erre ourselves, than know
If our forefathers err'd or no.

When we trust men concerning God, we then
Trust not God concerning men.

The Holy Book, like the eighth sphere, does shine
With thousand lights of truth divine.
So numberless the stars, that to the eye,
It makes but all one galaxie.

Yet Reason must assist too, for in seas
So vast and dangerous as these,

Our course by stars above we cannot know,
Without the compass too below.

Though Reason cannot through Faith's mysteries see,

It sees that there and such they be ;

Leads to Heaven's door, and there does humbly keep, And there through chinks and key-holes peep. Though it, like Moses, by a sad command,

Must not come in to th' Holy Land, Yet thither it infallibly does guide; And from afar 'tis all descry'd.

CIII

A. COWLEY.

THE GARDEN

WHAT Wond'rous life is this I lead!
Ripe apples drop about my head;
The luscious clusters of the vine
Upon my mouth do crush their wine;

The nectarine, and curious peach,
Into my hands themselves do reach ;
Stumbling on melons, as I pass,
Insnared with flowers, I fall on grass.

Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less,
Withdraws into its happiness;

The mind, that ocean where each kind
Does straight its own resemblance find;
Yet it creates, transcending these,
Far other worlds, and other seas,
Annihilating all that's made,

To a green thought in a green shade.

Here at the fountain's sliding foot,
Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root,
Casting the body's vest aside,
My soul into the boughs does glide:
There, like a bird, it sits and sings,
Then whets and claps its silver wings,
And, till prepared for longer flight,
Waves in its plumes the various light.

Such was that happy garden state,

While man there walked without a mate : After a place so pure and sweet,

What other help could yet be meet!

But 'twas beyond a mortal's share

To wander solitary there :
Two paradises are in one,
To live in Paradise alone.