Nor grieve thy Dove, but soft and mild
Both live and die thy Child.

Revel. Cap. 2. ver. 17.

To him that overcometh wil I give to eate of the hidden Manna; and I will give him a white ftone, and in the ftone a new name written, which no man knoweth, faving he that receiveth it.

The Conftellation.

Air, ordered lights, whose motion without noise

Resembles those true Joys,

Whose spring is on that hill, where y do grow,

And we here taste sometimes below,

With what exact obedience do you move
Now beneath, and now above!
And in your vaft progreffions overlook
The darkest night, and closest nook!

Some nights I fee you in the gladsome East,
Some others near the West,

And when I cannot fee, yet do you shine,
And beat about your endles line.

Silence and light and watchfulnes with you
Attend and wind the Clue;

No fleep nor floth affailes you,

but poor man

Still either fleeps, or flips his fpan.

He gropes beneath here, and with restless Care,
First makes, then hugs a fnare;

Adores dead duft, fets heart on Corne and grafs,
But feldom doth make heav'n his glass.

Mufick and mirth, if there be musick here,
Take up, and tune his year;

These things are Kin to him, and must be had,
Who kneels, or fighs a life, is mad.

Perhaps fome nights he'll watch with you, and peep When it were best to fleep;

Dares know Effects, and Judge them long before, When th' herb he treads knows much, much

more.

But feeks he your Obedience, Order, Light,
Your calm and wel-train'd flight,
Where, though the glory differ in each star,
Yet is there peace ftill and no war.

Since plac'd by Him, who calls you by your names,
And fixt there all your flames,
Without Command you never acted ought,
And then you in your courses fought.

But here Commiffion'd by a black self-will
The fons the father kill,

The Children Chase the mother, and would heal
The wounds they give by crying zeale.

Then Caft her bloud and tears upon thy book,
Where they for fashion look;

And, like that Lamb, which had the Dragon's voice,
Seem mild, but are known by their noise.

Thus by our lufts disorder'd into wars

Our guides prove wandring stars,

Which for these mists and black days were referv'd, What time we from our first love swerv'd.

Yet O for his fake who fits now by thee
All crown'd with victory,

So guide us through this Darknes, that we may
Be more and more in love with day!

Settle and fix our hearts, that we may move
In order, peace, and love;

And taught obedience by thy whole Creation,
Become an humble, holy nation!

Give to thy spouse her perfect and pure dress,
Beauty and boliness ;

And so repair these Rents, that men may see
And fay, Where God is, all agree.

The Shepheards.

Weet, harmless lives! on whofe holy leisure
Waits Innocence and pleasure,

Whose leaders to those pastures and cleer
fprings

Were Patriarchs, Saints, and Kings;

How happend it that in the dead of night
You only faw true light,

While Palestine was faft afleep, and lay
Without one thought of Day?

Was it because those first and bleffed fwains
Were pilgrims on those plains,

When they receiv'd the promise, for which now 'Twas there first shown to you?

"Tis true, he loves that Duft whereon they go
That ferve him here below,

And therefore might for memory of those
His love there first disclose;

But wretched Salem once his love, must now
No voice nor vifion know,

Her stately Piles with all their height and pride
Now languished and died,

And Bethlem's humble Cotts above them stept,
While all her Seers flept;

Her Cedar, firr, hew'd stones, and gold were all
Polluted through their fall,

And those once facred manfions were now
Meer emptiness and fhow.

This made the Angel call at reeds and thatch,
Yet where the fhepheards watch,

And God's own lodging, though he could not lack, To be a common Kack;

No coftly pride, no foft-cloath'd luxurie,

In those thin Cels could lie ;

Each stirring wind and ftorm blew through their Cots, Which never harbour'd plots;

Only Content and love and humble joys

Lived there without all noise;

Perhaps fome harmless Cares for the next day

Did in their bosomes play,

As where to lead their sheep, what filent nook,

What springs or fhades to look;

But that was all; And now with gladsome care
They for the town prepare;

They leave their flock, and in a bufie talk
All towards Bethlem walk

To fee their foul's great fhepheard, who was come, To bring all ftraglers home;

Where now they find him out, and, taught before,
That Lamb of God adore,

That Lamb whofe daies great Kings and Prophets
And long'd to fee, but miff'd. [wifh'd
The first light they beheld was bright and gay,
And turn'd their night to day;

But to this later light they faw in him,
Their day was dark and dim.

Mifery.

Ord, bind me up, and let me lye
A Pris'ner to my libertie,

If fuch a state at all can be

As an Impris'ment ferving thee;
The wind, though gather'd in thy fift,
Yet doth it blow ftill where it lift,
And yet fhouldst thou let go thy hold
Thofe gufts might quarrel and grow bold.
As waters here, headlong and loofe,
The lower grounds ftill chafe and choose,
Where spreading all the way they seek
And fearch out every hole and Creek;
So my fpilt thoughts, winding from thee,
Take the down-rode to vanitie,

Where they all stray and strive, which fhall
Find out the first and steepest fall.
I cheer their flow, giving fupply
To what's already grown too high,
And having thus perform'd that part