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I.
From
the dire monument of thy black roome,
Wher now that
vestal flame thou dost intombe,
As in the inmost cell
of all earths wombe.
II.
Sacred Lucasta, like
the pow'rfull ray
Of heavenly truth, passe this
Cimmerian way,
Whilst all the standards of your
beames display.
III.
Arise and climbe our
whitest, highest hill;
There your sad thoughts with
joy and wonder fill,
And see seas calme as earth,
earth as your will.
IV.
Behold! how lightning
like a taper flyes,
And guilds your chari't, but
ashamed dyes,
Seeing it selfe out-gloried by your
eyes.
V.
Threatning and boystrous tempests
gently bow,
And to your steps part in soft paths,
when now
There no where hangs a cloud, but on your
brow.
VI.
No showrs but 'twixt your lids, nor
gelid snow,
But what your whiter, chaster brest doth
ow,
Whilst winds in chains colder for sorrow blow.
VII.
Shrill trumpets doe only sound to eate,
Artillery hath loaden ev'ry dish with meate,
And
drums at ev'ry health alarmes beate.
VIII.
All
things Lucasta, but Lucasta, call,
Trees borrow
tongues, waters in accents fall,
The aire doth sing,
and fire is musicall.
IX.
Awake from the dead
vault in which you dwell,
All's loyall here, except
your thoughts rebell
Which, so let loose, often their
gen'rall quell.
X.
See! she obeys! By all
obeyed thus,
No storms, heats, colds, no soules
contentious,
Nor civill war is found; I meane, to us.
XI.
Lovers and angels, though in heav'n they
show,
And see the woes and discords here below,
What they not feele, must not be said to know.
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