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But when of old the sons of morning sung,
And the well-balanc'd world on hinges hung;
Ring out, ye crystal Spheres,
(If ye have pow'r to touch our senses so ;)
And let the base of Heav'n's deep organ blow; 130 And, with your ninefold harmony, Make up full concert to th' angelic symphony.
For, if such holy song
Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold ; 135
And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould ; And hell itself will pass away. And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.
Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,
The babe yet lies in smiling infancy,
So both himself and us to glorify:
the deep ;
With such a horrid clang
160 With terror of that blast,
Shall from the surface to the centre shake; When, at the world's last session, The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his
XVIII. And then at last our bliss
165 Full and perfect is,
But now begins ; for, from this happy day,
170 And, wroth to see his kingdom fail, Swindges the scaly horror of his folded tail.
Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from bis shrine
176 Can no more divine,
With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.
No nightly trance, or breathed spell,
181 And the resounding shore,
A voice of weeping heard and loud lament;
The parting Genius is with sighing sent;
190 The Lars, and Lemures, moan with midnight
plaint; In urns, and altars round, A drear and dying sound
Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint;
With that twice-batter'd God of Palestine;
200 Heav'n's queen and mother both,
Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine; The Libye Hammon shriuks his horn, In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz
199. “ That twice-battered God of Palestine;"....Dagon, first battered by Samson, then by the ark of God.
His burning idol all of blackest hue;
210 The brutish Gods of Nile as fast, Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis haste.
XXIV. Nor is Osiris seen In Memphian grove or green, Trampling the unshow'r'd grass with lowings loud:
215 Nor can he be at rest Within his sacred chest;
Nought but profoundest Hell can be his shroud;
The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;
XXVI. So, when the sun in bed, Curtain'd with cloudy red,
230 Pillows his chin upon an orient wave, The flocking shadows pale Troop to th' infernal jail,
Each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave; And the yellow-skirted fayes, Hly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-lov'd
XXVII. .But see, the Virgin blest Hath laid her Babe to rest;
Time is our tedious song should here have ending; Heav'n's youngest-teemed star
240 Hath fix'd her polish'd car,
Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending: And all about the courtly stable Bright-harness'd Angels sit in order serviceable.
In wintry solstice like the shorten'd light,
For now to sorrow must I tune iny song,
Most perfect Hero, try'd in heaviest plight
III. He, sovoreign Priest, stooping his regal head, 15 That dropt with odorous oil down his fair eyes, Poor fleshy tabernacle entered His starry front low-rooft beneath the skies : O what a mask was there, what a disguise !
Yet more; the stroke of death he must abide, 20 Then lies him meekly down fast by his brethren's side.