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Broke the fair music that all creatures made
To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway'd In perfect diapason, whilst they stood
In first obedience, and their state of good.
To live with him, and sing in endless morn of light!
AN EPITAPH ON THE MARCHIONESS OF WINCHESTER.
THIS rich marble doth inter
The honour'd wife of Winchester,
Added to her noble birth,
More than she could own from earth.
After so short time of breath,
To house with darkness, and with death.
Her high birth, and her graces sweet,
Quickly found a lover meet;
The virgin quire, for her, request
But with a scarce well-lighted flame;
And in his garland, as he stood,
And with remorseless cruelty
So have I seen some tender slip,
Gentle lady, may thy grave
Peace and quiet ever have;
Sweet rest seize thee evermore,
That, to give the world increase,
And some flowers, and some bays,
Sent thee from the banks of Came
Devoted to thy virtuous name;
Whilst thou, bright saint, high sitt'st in glory,
Next her, much like to thee in story,
That fair Syrian shepherdess
Who, after years of barrenness,
The highly favour'd Joseph bore
To him that served for her before,
Far within the bosom bright
SONG ON MAY MORNING.
Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who, from her green lap, throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.
Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.