English

Within the place where patient souls abide
In hopeful suffering, — dead among the dead
Methought I stood, and pray'd with bended head,
When sudden shone an angel at my side,
Who to my startled questioning glance replied —
" Because thou hast lov'd well, the Lord hath said
It is His will that thou be comforted.
Ask what thou wilt; it shall not be denied."
" Show me my saint — one moment, only one!"
And lo! an image, on cloud-canvas cast,
Of a great company in robes of white,
And 'mongst them she , with face divinely bright

Why should thy form upon the rack of pain —
Thy delicate form — be stretch'd? who ever true
And tender wert, and pure as morning dew.
On me, whose soul was black with many a stain,
Which, but ill purg'd, would oft appear again,
Till thy sweet influence did my life renew —
On me, if justice some high Power could do,
The doom were laid this bitter cup to drain.
My burden is, that thine I cannot bear.
Nightly I listen with love-quicken'd ears
To the half-utter'd moan which thou would'st fain

Just ere the feet of her I loved the best
Began to tread the thorny path of pain,
We two, with all our joyous household train,
Found in a Wicklow glen our summer rest.
Sweet was our sojourn in that peaceful nest.
The garden pleas'd us, and the stream that flow'd
Beneath the thatch-roof'd cot, our quaint abode;
Not seldom, too, we hail'd some friendly guest.
She lov'd the place, and often spoke its praise;
And then would I half-playfully repeat
The words of Deirdre, from a like retreat
Forc'd to return to Erin's endless jars —

Others may breathing Mettals softer grave,
Plead Causes better, and poore Clients save
From their oppressours; with an Instrument
They may mete out the spacious Firmament,
And count the rising starres with greater skill,
Reyne the proud Steed, and breake him of his will.
Better their Sword, and better use their Pen.
Breton remember thou to governe men,
(Be this thy trade) And to establish Peace,
To spare the humble, and the proud depresse.

XXX

All Hail ! thou born of more than Kingly Race ,
Monarchs and Poets did thy Lineage Grace!
At once the Crown and Lawrel drest,
The Royal Family of ESST .
Great ARIOSTO from Thy Race did spring ,
That taught his Hero's how to Love and Sing !
May all the Joys Triumphant Beauties Bless,
And all Chast Lovers fancy in Success :
May all the Glory that on Empires wait,
With ev'ry quiet of retreat ,
Crown your soft hours , and be in Heav'n confirm'd,

XXIX

Mistaken School-men , you who vainly strive
Just Notions of Eternal Bliss to give,
By dull comparison with things below,
Saphers , and Diamonds, Chrystal Gold , and Light ;
By lessening Objects, time , and pains bestow
To Paint , what cannot be conceiv'd by sight .
Henceforth the Sacred Mansion to display,
(And tell us what you mean , by what ye say )
Describe Great JAMES , and [ LAURA's ] Coronation Day !

XXVIII

Thus the great charge they to the Temple bring
There, not to make , but to confirm the King !
So the Triumphant Ark with Songs was born ,
And sanctify'd the place it did Adorn !
And Lo —
The opening Scene of the third Heav'n appears,
Where Glory sits Enthron'd above the Stars ;
Where no faint Mortal object meets the Eye ,
But ev'ry where 'tis all Divine ,
All Raptur'd Joy! all perfect Extasie ;

XXVII

And now, the Earthly GOD appears in view ,
While the glad Crowd their lowder shouts renew,
Wild with their joy , even rudly they express
Its vast concern , its vast excess !
All stretch themselves beyond their native height,
At more advantage to behold the Sight ;
That Sacred sight ! which though each day we view,
'Tis every day all Charming, Dear and New !
So on Olympus top the GOD appears,
When of his Thunder he disarms,
And all his atributes of mercy wears

XXII

And now loud Admirations fill the space,
And Hearts with nimbler Motions beat,
Behold the QUEEN the Raptur'd Crowds repeat!
She comes! She comes with a Triumphant Grace ,
And all Heav'n opens in her Angel Face ;
Bright were Her Beams , and all around they Shone ,
And darted awful Fire to all the lookers on;
So heedless Lovers do with Cupids play
'Till the Boys shoot and spoil their fancy'd Joy:

XXI

The Golden Scepter noble Rutland bore,
In whose rich Veins the Royal Purple Springs
From mighty YORK ! whose conqu'ring Arms of yore
Could sway the Fortunes, and the Fates of Kings :
Still to the juster side they brought their Swords ,
And many a Glorious field the wond'rous Name Records .

Next view a Hero in His [proper] Sphere,
While Beauford do's the Sacred Circle bear,
A Prince ! whom Heav'n and Nature form'd to move