I wist not what to wish; "yet sure," thought I, "If so much excellence abide below,

How excellent is he that dwells on high,

Whose power and beauty by his works we know!
Sure he is goodness, wisdome, glory, light,

That hath this under-world so richly dight."

ΙΟ

More Heaven then Earth was here, no winter & no night.

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Then on a stately Oak I cast mine Eye,
Whose ruffling top the Clouds seem'd to aspire:
"How long since thou wast in thine Infancy?

Thy strength and stature, more thy years admire.
Hath hundred winters past since thou wast born,
Or thousand since thou brakest thy shell of horn?
If so,
all these as nought Eternity doth scorn."
Then higher on the glistering Sun I gaz'd,
Whose beams was shaded by the leavie Tree.
The more I look'd the more I grew amaz'd,
And softly said: "What glory's like to thee,
Soul of this world, this Universes Eye?
No wonder some made thee a Deity:
Had I not better known, alas, the same had I.

"Thou as a Bridegroom from thy Chamber rushes,
And as a strong man joyes to run a race;

The morn doth usher thee with smiles & blushes,
The Earth reflects her glances in thy face;
Birds, insects, Animals, with Vegative,

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25

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Thy heart from death and dulness doth revive,

And in the darksome womb of fruitful nature dive.

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"Thy swift Annual and diurnal Course,

Thy daily streight and yearly oblique path,

Thy pleasing fervor and thy scorching force,

All mortals here the feeling knowledg hath.

Thy presence makes it day, thy absence night;
Quaternal Seasons caused by thy might.
Hail, Creature full of sweetness, beauty, & delight!

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"Art thou so full of glory that no Eye

Hath strength thy shining Rayes once to behold?
And is thy splendid Throne erect so high

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As to approach it can no earthly mould?

How full of glory, then, must thy Creator be
Who gave this bright light luster unto thee:
Admir'd, ador'd for ever be that Majesty!"

Silent, alone, where none or saw or heard,
In pathless paths I lead my wandring feet,
My humble Eyes to lofty Skyes I rear'd:

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To sing some Song my mazed Muse thought meet;

They kept one tune and plaid on the same string,
Seeming to glory in their little Art.

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Shall Creatures abject thus their voices raise,

And in their kind resound their makers praise,

Whilst I as mute can warble forth no higher layes?

When present times look back to Ages past,

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And men in being fancy those are dead,

It makes things gone perpetually to last,

And calls back moneths and years that long since fled;

It makes a man more aged in conceit

Then was Methuselah or 's grand-sire great,

While of their persons & their acts his mind doth treat. 70

Sometimes in Eden fair he seems to be;

Sees glorious Adam there made Lord of all;
Fancyes the Apple dangle on the Tree,
That turn'd his Sovereign to a naked thral,
Who like a miscreant's driven from that place,
To get his bread with pain and sweat of face,
A penalty impos'd on his backsliding Race.

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Here sits our Grandame in retired place,
And in her lap her bloody Cain new born;
The weeping Imp oft looks her in the face,
Bewails his unknown hap and fate forlorn:
His Mother sighs to think of Paradise,
And how she lost her bliss to be more wise,
Believing him that was and is Father of lyes.

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Here Cain and Abel come to sacrifice;

Fruits of the Earth and Fatlings each do bring:
On Abels gift the fire descends from Skies,
But no such sign on false Cain's offering.
With sullen hateful looks he goes his wayes,

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Hath thousand thoughts to end his brothers dayes,
Upon whose blood his future good he hopes to raise.

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There Abel keeps his sheep, no ill he thinks;
His brother comes, then acts his fratricide:
The Virgin Earth of blood her first draught drinks,
But since that time she often hath been cloy'd.
The wretch, with gastly face and dreadful mind,
Thinks each he sees will serve him in his kind,

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Though none on Earth but kindred near then could he find.

Who fancyes not his looks now at the Barr?

His face like death, his heart with horror fraught.
Nor Male-factor ever felt like warr

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When deep dispair with wish of life hath fought.

Branded with guilt and crusht with treble woes,
A Vagabond to Land of Nod he goes;

A City builds, that wals might him secure from foes.

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Who thinks not oft upon the Fathers ages?

Their long descent; how nephews sons they saw;

The starry observations of those Sages,

And how their precepts to their sons were law;
How Adam sigh'd to see his Progeny

Cloath'd all in his black sinfull Livery,

Who neither guilt nor yet the punishment could fly.

Our Life compare we with their length of dayes;
Who to the tenth of theirs doth now arrive?
And though thus short, we shorten many wayes,
Living so little while we are alive:

In eating, drinking, sleeping, vain delight,

So unawares comes on perpetual night,

And puts all pleasures vain unto eternal flight.

When I behold the heavens as in their prime,

I 20

And then the earth, though old, stil clad in green,
The stones and trees insensible of time,

Nor age nor wrinkle on their front are seen;

If winter come and greeness then do fade,

A Spring returns and they more youthfull made;

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But Man grows old, lies down, remains where once he's laid:

By birth more noble then those creatures all,
Yet seems by nature and by custome curs'd:

No sooner born but grief and care makes fall,

That state obliterate he had at first;

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Nor youth nor strength nor wisdom spring again,
Nor habitations long their names retain,

But in oblivion to the final day remain.

Shall I, then, praise the heavens, the trees, the earth,

Because their beauty and their strength last longer?
Shall I wish there or never to had birth,

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Because they're bigger, & their bodyes stronger?

Nay, they shall darken, perish, fade, and dye,
And when unmade so ever shall they lye;
But man was made for endless immortality.

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And if the sun would ever shine, there would I dwell.

While on the stealing stream I fixt mine eye,
Which to the long'd for Ocean held its course,

I markt nor crooks nor rubs that there did lye Could hinder ought, but still augment its force: "O happy Flood," quoth I, "that holds thy race

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Till thou arrive at thy beloved place,

Nor is it rocks or shoals that can obstruct thy pace.

"Nor is 't enough that thou alone may'st slide,

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But hundred brooks in thy cleer waves do meet;
So hand in hand along with thee they glide
To Thetis house, where all imbrace and greet:

Thou Emblem true of what I count the best,

O could I lead my Rivolets to rest,

So may we press to that vast mansion ever blest!

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"Ye Fish which in this liquid Region 'bide, That for each season have your habitation,

Now salt, now fresh, where you think best to glide
To unknown coasts to give a visitation,

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In Lakes and ponds you leave your numerous fry;

So nature taught, and yet you know not why,
You watry folk that know not your felicity.

Look how the wantons frisk to tast the air,
Then to the colder bottome streight they dive;
Eftsoon to Neptun's glassie Hall repair,

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To see what trade they great ones there do drive,
Who forrage o're the spacious sea-green field

And take the trembling prey before it yield,
Whose armour is their scales, their spreading fins

their shield."

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While musing thus, with contemplation fed,

And thousand fancies buzzing in my brain,

The sweet-tongu'd Philomel percht ore my head,

And chanted forth a most melodious strain;

Which rapt me so with wonder and delight

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I judg'd my hearing better then my sight,

And wisht me wings with her a while to take my flight.

"O merry Bird," said I, "that fears no snares,
That neither toyles nor hoards up in thy barn,
Feels no sad thoughts, nor cruciating cares
To gain more good or shun what might thee harm;
Thy cloaths ne're wear, thy meat is every where,
Thy bed a bough, thy drink the water cleer;
Reminds not what is past, nor whats to come dost
fear.

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"The dawning morn with songs thou dost prevent,
Sets hundred notes unto thy feathered crew,
So each one tunes his pretty instrument

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