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Then he despairing of her Heart,
Would fain have had his own.
With nothing she had won.
The Prophet's Song: THey fung how God spoke out the World's vaft Ball;
From Nathing, and froni no where call'd forth all. No Nature yet, or Place for't to possess, But an unbottom'd Gulf of Emptiness. Full of Himself, th' Almighty fát, hisown. Palace, and without folitude alone. But he was Goodness whole, and all Things willid; Which e'er they were, his active woord fulfill'd; And their astonish'd Heads o'th? sudden rear'd, An unshap'd kind of Something first appear'd, Confessing its new Being, and undrest As if it stept in haste before the rest. Yet buried in this Matters darkfome Womb; Lay the rich Seeds of ev'ry thing to come. From hence the chearful Flame leapt up fo high; Close at its Heels the nimble Air did Hy; Dull Earth, with his own weight did downwards
(pierce, To the fixt Navel of the Universe, And was quite lost in Waters: Till God faid To the proud Sea, thrink in your insolent Head, See how the gaping Earth has made you place; That durst not murniur, but shrunk in a-pace. Since when his bounds are set, at which in vain He Foam, and Rages, and turns back again.
With richer stuff he bad Heav'ns Fabrick shine, And from him a quick Spring of Light Divine Swelld up the Sun, from whence his Cher'shing
(Flame, Fills the whole World, like Him from whom it came. He smooth'd the rough-cast Moon's imperfect Mold, And comb'd her Beamy Locks with Sacred Gold: Be thou, said he, Queen of the mournful Night, And as he spoke, th' arose clad o'er in Light, With thousand Stars attending on her Train; With her they rise, with her they set again. Then Herbs peep'd forth, new Trees admiring stood, And smelling Flom’rs painted the infant Wood. Then Flocks of Birds through the glad Air did fee, Joyful, and safe before Man's Luxury, Teaching their Maker in their untaught lays: Nay the mute Fish witness no less his praise; For those he made, and cloath'd with silver Scales, From Minoesą to those Living Inands, IV hales. Beats too were his command: what could he more! Yes, Man he could, the bond of all before; In him he all Things with strange order hurlid; In him, that full Abridgement of the World.
Cowley, David. l. I.
WE allow'd you Beauty, and we did fubmit
To all the Tyrannies of it ;
Orinda does in that too reign,
We our old Title plead in vain,
Verse was Love's Fire-Arnis heretofore,
'Twas the great Cannon we brought down.
To aflault a stubborn Town ; Orinda first did a bold Sally make,
Our strongest Quarter take,
And so successful prov'd, that she
Woman, as if the Body were their whole
Did that, and not the Soul
The abortive iflue never liv'd.
Should unmanur'd, or barren lye..
But thou industriously haft fow'd and tillid
The fair, and fruitful Field?
As when the happy Gods above
A secret Joy unspeakable does move
With no less Pleasure thou methinks should see
Thou bring'st not forth with pain,
And there is so much rooma
That like the Holland Countess thou may'st bear A Child for every Day of all the fertile Year.
3. Thou do'st my Wonder, would'st my Envy raise, If to be prais'd, I lov'd more then to praise
Where e're I see an excellence, I must admire to see thy well-knit Sense, Thy Numbers gentle, and thy Fancies high, Those as thy Forehead smooth, these sparkling as
(thine Eye. 'Tis folid, and 'tis manly all, Or rather 'tis Angelical,
For, as in Angels, we # Do in thy Verses see
Both improv'd Sexes eniinently meet: They are than Man more strong, and more than
4. They talk of Nine, I know not who, Feniale Chimera's, that o're Poets reign,
I ne'r could find that fancy true,
But have invok'd them oft I'nı fure in vain :
and Friendship, and the generous Scorn
Of things for which we were not born,
And as the Roman Victory
s. But Rome with all her Arts could ne'r inspire
A Female Breast with fuch a Fire, :
The warlike Amazonian Train,
In such a sacred Company)
Ev'n Boadicid's angry Ghost
And to her injured Daughters now does boast, That Rome's o’recome at last, by a Wonian of her