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death_n	life_n	power_n	soul_n	8,115	5	4.8720	4	true

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ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A29982	Poems on several occasions by the Duke of Buckingham, The late Lord Rochester, Sir John Denham, Sir George Etheridge, Andrew Marvel, Esq., the famous Spencer, Madam Behn, and several other poets of this age.	Etherege, George, Sir, 1635?-1691.; Denham, John, Sir, 1615-1669.; Buckingham, George Villiers, Duke of, 1628-1687.; Behn, Aphra, 1640-1689.; Rochester, John Wilmot, Earl of, 1647-1680.; Spenser, Edmund, 1552?-1599.; Marvell, Andrew, 1621-1678.	1696 (1696)	Wing B5318; ESTC R29910	38,792	192

Sir F. S. BRight Martial Maid Queen of the frozen Zone The Northern Pole supports thy shining Throne Behold what Furrows Age and Steel can plow The Helmet's weight oppress'd this wrinkld Brow Thro' Fates untrodden Paths I move my Hands Still act my Free-born Peoples bold Commands Yet this stern Shade to you submits his Frowns Nor are these Looks always severe to Crowns On the late Sickness of Madam MOHUN and Mr. CONGREVE EPIGRAM ONE fatal Day a Sympathetic Fire Siez'd him that writ and her that did inspire Mohun the Muses Theme their Master Congreve Beauty and Wit had like t o've lain in one Grave On a Lady's Arrival from Holland ALL things move forward with a prosp'rous Breeze And none but gentle Zphyrs swell the Seas Whilst the proud Ship its pompous load conveys Holland with Grief surrenders up the Fair And we with Pride and Joy receive Her here While in one bottom they resign their store And by enriching us themselves grow poor Much to those generous Provinces we owe For Heroes much but more for Beaut● now Abroad your Warriours conquer with their Arms And here alike you conquer with your Charms While hourly in your crowded ways you meet The Youth of Britain bleeding at your Feet In War the vanquish'd Foes for Mercy sue And we bow down for pity here to you Alike in Pow'r you Life or Death afford The conqu'ring Beauty or the conqu'ring Sword Engrav'd on a Medal of the French King's PRoximus similis regnas Lodoice Tonanti Vim summam summâ cum pietate geris Optimus expansis alis at maximus armis Protegis hinc Anglos Teutones inde feris Quin coceant toto Ti●ania soedera Rheno Illa aquilam tantum Gallia fulmen habet English'd thus SEcond to Iove alone in whom unite Unbounded Virtue with unbounded Might Whether to succour Innocents opprest Or quell those Monsters which the World infest In vain the Titans against Heaven combine In vain the Imbattl'd Squadrons cross'd the Rhine Theirs is the Eagle but the Thunder 's thine A Letter from two Gentlemen in the Country to a Friend in the City WHile we in Country Conversation Note that the different Print distinguishes what each writes That in the Roman is writ by the Knight that in the Italick by the Squire Hear strange odd stories of the Nation Without one word of right Relation You have the Truth of what befals The heavy Dutch and active Gauls Which Side has got the best in Battles And which has lost their Goods and Chattels You 've all the Wit too that is sown In Speech and Pamphlet o'er the Town But lest at some unlucky Time You may want something new in Rhime We 'll tell you how the Day and Night Is spent betwixt the SQUIRE and KNIGHT Th' Account is true as Gospel Text I writ the first Line I the next Singly you ought to trust to neither Yet you may credit both together We make a shift to rise as early As he that dreamt of Mrs. Farly After short Conf'rence held with Heaven For Country-Sins are soon forgiven Each takes his Book the best beloved SQUIRE takes Lucretius KNIGHT takes Ovid. We 're now Inventing now Translating And sometimes Drinking sometimes Eating I writing Loves of Lady's Errant I signing Country Bumkins Warrant Till Dinner calls where after Grace The KNIGHT puts on his serious Face Yet lays about and eats apace The same Grace after as before For neither I nor I have more We rise and go to what we please Have several sports for several days And faith we live in Mirth and Ease In Town you 're fine Folk yet we 'll tell you In what we Country Folk excell you Here 's no damn'd Mischief to be gotten No Gallant clapt no Mistress rotten Green Grass contents the humble Lovers And Shades of Haycocks are our Covers Our Lasses what they want in Beauty Make out in faithful Love and Duty 'Twixt you and I KNIGHT Love 's a leap Where he can have it sound and cheap But hates to waste his little Riches On jilting Sluts and pocky Bitches Believe me Jack in what is true He has a better than you Which I admire you never knew Now let our Services be giv'n To all our Friends on this side Heav'n We 've nought to say to those gon thither Or elsewhere fled the Lord knows whither Let them enjoy what e'er can flow From Bl●ss which they alone must know We 're content to stay below As Merchants deal with Indian Rabbles And sell them Bells and such like Baubles And so the Knaves by ev'ry Trangam Get Gold and Jewels marry hang 'em We send you here a Doggrel Letter From you expecting much a better Which we with eargerness solicite The greatest Favour next a Visit. But that we fear 's too great a Toil Nor would you think it worth your while To change good Wine and handsome Whores For Drink and Doodies such as ours Our Friends we never will importune To loss of Pleasures or of Fortune Nor too much urge you to forsake all The Joys we can't pretend to equal May all good Fortune still earess you And Wine and Women joyn to bless you Beauty consult all Charms to fire you As Knight and I conspire to tire you That Thought came timely by my troth And at this juncture well for both The tedious Writer bear the trouble In spite to give the Reader double By Madam Behn I. THE Gods are not more blest than he Who fixing his glad Eyes on thee With thy bright Rays his Senses chears And drinks with ever thirsty Ears The charming Musick of thy Tongue Does ever hear and ever long That sees with more than humane Grace Sweet Smiles adorn thy Angel Face II. But when with kinder Beams you shine And so appear much more Divine My feeble sense and dazzled Sight No more support the Glorious Light And the fierce Torrent of Delight Oh! then I feel my Life decay My ravish'd Soul then flies away Then Faintness does my Limbs surprize And Darkness swims before my Eyes III. Then my Tongue fails and from my Brow The Liquid Drops in Silence flow Then wand'ring Fires run thro' my Blood Then Cold binds up the languid Flood All Pale and Breathless then I lie I sigh I tremble and I die To the Precise Cloris A Paraphrase on the beginning of the last Chorus in Seneca's Oedipus FAtis agimur cedite Fa'is Non solicita possunt curae Mutare rati stamina fusi Quicquid patimur mortale genus Quicquid facimus venit ex alto Omnia certo tramite vadunt Primusque dies dedit extremum SUbmit to Fate 't is her Tyrannic Reign Against whose blind Decrees Man strives in vain Not all his Anxious Cares nor searching Skill Can change or move her Arbitrary Will 'T is from above that all our Actions flow To Partial Fate what e're we bear we owe To certain Roads all things confin'd we see And each Man's first day does

down her Favours throws On the next met not minding what she does Nor why nor whom she helps or injures knows Sometimes she Smiles then like a Fury raves And seldom truly loves but Fools and Knaves Let her love whom she please I scorn to wooe her While she stays with me I 'll be civil to her But if she offers once to move her Wings I 'll fling her back all her vain Gewgaw things And Arm'd with Virtue will more Glorious stand Than if the Bitch still bent at my Command I 'll marry Honesty tho' ne'er so poor Rather than follow such a dull blind Whore On a Lewd Scotch Parson By Mr. Dennis A Canting Scot in thy vile Sermons preaches By thy lewd Life the Devil his Doctrine teaches Thy Flock is damn'd for what confounded Sot Will not believe the Devil before the Scot The Enjoyment By the Marquess of M. SInce now my Sylvia is as kind as fair Let Wit and Joy succeed my dull Despair Oh! what a Night of Pleasure was the last A large Reward for all my Torments past And on my Head if future Mischiefs fall This happy Night shall make amends for all Twelve was the happy Minute that we met And on her Bed were close together set Tho' list'ning Spies might be perhaps too near Love fill'd our Hearts there was no room for Fear Now whilst I strove her melting Heart to move With all the powerful Eloquence of Love In her fair Face I saw the Colour rise And an unusual softness in her Eyes Gently they look and I with Joy adore That only Charm they never had before The Wounds they gave her Tongue was wont to heal But now these gentle Enemies reveal A Secret which that Friend would fain conceal What she forbids Love does by Signs command Languishing Looks and pressing close my Hand And I her Cypher quickly understand My Eyes transported too with Amorous rage Seem'd fierce with Expectation to engage But fast she holds her Hands and close her Thighs And what she longs to do with frowns denies A strange Effect on foolish Woman wrought Bred in Disguises and by Custom taught Custom that all the World to Slavery brings The dull Excuse for doing silly things Custom which Wisdom sometimes over-rules But serves instead of Reason to the Fools So Sylvia by the Method of her Sex Is forc'd a while her self and me to vex But now when thus we have been struggling long My Strength grows weak and her Desire grows strong How can she chuse but let the Conqueror in He strives without and Love betrays within Her Hands at last to hide her Blushes leave The Fort unguarded ready to receive My fierce Assaults made with a Lover's hast Like Lightening piercing and as quickly past Thus does fond Nature with her Children play First shews us Joy then snatches it away 'T is not excess of Pleasure makes it short The pain of Love's as raging as the sport And yet alas that lasts we sigh all night With Grief but scarce one Minute with Delight Some little pain might check her kind desire But not enough to make her once retire Maid's Wounds for Pleasure bear as Men for praise Here Honour heals there Love their smart allays The World if just would harmful Courage blame And this more innocent Reward with Fame When she reflects upon her conquered Womb So many Terrors past and Joys to come Whose Harbingers did roughly all remove To make great room for great Luxurious Love Pleas'd with the mighty Guest her Arms embrace My Body and her Hands a better place Which with one touch so pleas'd and proud does grow It swells beyond the Grasp that makes it so Confinement scorns in any stra●●e● Walls Than those of Love where it contented falls Tho' twice overthrown he more inflam d does rise And will to the last Drop fight out the Prize She like some Amazon in Story proves That overcomes the Heroe whom she loves In the close Fight she took so great delight She then could think of nothing but the Fight With Joy she laid him panting at her Feet But with no less did his Recovery meet Her trembling Hand first gently rais'd his Head She almost dies for fear that he is dead Then binds his Wounds up with a busie Hand And with that Balm enables him to stand Till by her Love she conquers him once more And wounds him deeper than she did before Tho' fallen from the top of Pleasures Hill With Longing Eyes we look up thither still Still thither our unwearied Wishes tend Till we that height of Happiness ascend By gentle steps the Ascent it self exceeds All Joy but only that to which it leads First then so long and lovingly we kiss As if like Doves we knew no other Bliss Still in one Mouth our Tongues together play Whilst wanton Hands are pleas'd no less than they Thus cling'd together now a while we rest Breathing our Souls into each other's Breast Then give a gentle Kiss of all our Parts While this best way we make a change of Hearts Here would my Praise as well as pleasure dwell Enjoyment's self I scarce like half so well The little this comes short in Rage and Strength Is largely recompenc'd with endless Length This Pleasure would remain if we could stay But Love's too eager to admit delay And hurries us with Speed so smooth away Now wanton in our Joys we nimbly move Our Pliant Hands in all the shapes of Love Our Motions not like that of perter ●ools Whose active Body shews their heavy Souls But Sports of Love in which the willi●g Mind Makes Men as able as their Hearts are kind That Love would ease us of our eager Fire Which with such active Zeal we now require At last we force that Blessing we desire In Women's Mynes Men labour with great pain And thus we Heav'n with Violence obtain Oh! Heav'n of Love thou Moment of Delight Wrong'd by my words my Fancy does thee Right Methinks I lie all melting with her Charms And fast lock'd up within her Legs and Arms. Bent are our Minds and all our Thoughts on Fire Just labouring in the pangs of fierce Desire At once like Misers wallowing in their Store In full Possession yet desiring more LIFE By Mr. Motteux WHile Frantick Winds with Fury blow And Plough and shake the fickle Main The working Billows swell with dreadful noise they flow To Vales and Hills they turn the liquid Plain Their oozy Beds profoundest Waters leave As if the Sea 's proud Brood like Earth's wou'd try T' extinguish and confound the Glories of the Sky Their bold Gygantic Heads they proudly heave O'er Mountains rival Mountains soar And foam and rave with horrid Roar But soon each following surge its leading surge controuls Successively push'd on the sluid Mountain rowls And dash'd and spent dies on the Shoar Buried and lost in th' universal Tomb It s vast maternal Womb. So in Life's dubious Course Wild Fortune's shocks the Soul

disturb With their impetuous Force Swell'd by its Pow'r the Passions rage No bounds the soaring Will can curb Presumptuous Minds dare Heav'n engage But crowding Years push on and forwards drive Till hurried on vain Men arrive On Death's inevitable Coast Where all dissolv'd to dust in Nature's Mass are lost The FLEA out of Ovid. THou little Insect canst thou prove So great an Enemy to Love Thus to molest the beauteous She Whose Frame was spotless but for Thee I 've trac'd the Footsteps of thy Wrong And now pursue thee with my Song Base Vermin that delight'st in Blood And juicy Virgins are thy Food Those Spots the Trophies thou hast won Now seem to blush for what is done And when thy Gorge is fill'd with Gore Her Veins contain the richest Store Thou Maudlin shed'st repenting Tears Black as thy self their Stain appears Thou dost invade her slumb'ring Hours And ro●b'st her Rest as she does ours 'T is then thou wand'rest o'er the Plain Where we employ our Thoughts in vain Her Lips Breasts Knees Thighs all is free As free as open Air to thee It grieves me when I think that Bliss Without Fruition should be less While on her Couch th'extended Dame Wishing a Partner of her Flame Just as she dies when none is nigh Thou boldly dost attack her Thigh Nay impudently darst t' invade The sweet Recess for others made Improvidently without Gust Thou' rt made a Denizon of Lust. Now let me perish but my Foe Is much the happiest thing I know Thy shape tho' strange must be the Dress To which Orinda gives access Thus mask'd I shall discover more Than all my Courtship did before If Nature wou'd transform my Shape And suffer me to be thy Ape But on condition to restore The Features which I had before I 'd try if Magic Charms could move Such wonderful Effects of Love If Med'cines be as strong as they I 'll presently commence a Flea And what Medea's Charms have done Or Circe's Druggs is fully known Suppose the Change this Pilgrim dress Conveys me to the Goal of Bliss Upon th'extremities I stand And thence survey the Promis'd Land With silence and with baste I strove To shade me in the sacred Grove Where unperceiv'd and acting nought Of Harm save what was in my Thought I break the Chains of my Disguise And Manhood Shoots between her Thighs Perchance the Dame with Fear opprest Will call me Monster Villain Beast Threatning to call aloud for Aid When squeamish Honour is betray'd Then if Intreaties fail must I Dwindle into a Pensive Fly When that is o'er another Scene Presents me in the Lists agen Then I invoke the Cyprian Dame To be propitious to my Flame And all the Heav'nly Pow'rs t' express Their Care of Lovers in Distress Sighs Pray'rs and gentle Force combine To make the coy Orinda mine She to my Wishes yields her Charms And hugs the Turn-coat in her Arms. To SYLVIA An Excuse for having lov'd another in her Absence By Mr. Dennis I Never was inclin'd to range Till you from Love and me did fly Your cruel Absence made me change And for a meaner Beauty die Me an inferiour Beauty fir'd Her Eyes supply'd your absent Eyes So when the radiant Sun retir'd Earth's short-liv'd Fire the God supplies But when his everlasting Rays Again shine forth divinely bright Strait Elemental Fire decays Half quencht by Golden Streams of Light To Phoebus then we turn and gaze And the descending God admire And let to bask in his bright Blaze Our glimmering sickly Flames expire Abroad to meet his Beams we run Beams that revive us as they burn Alternate Breaths suck in the Sun Alternate Breaths his Praise return Whoe'er too much that Pow'r can praise By which he lives by which he sings Hail thou that dost inspire my Lays Thou brightest of refulgent things Thou warm'st my Heart and chear'st my Eye With Godlike Hints thou fir'st my Soul When thou art absent still I die Thy Motions all my Life controul These two last Stanza's says my Friend Meant of the Sun are hardly true But nothing juster e'er was penn'd If Sylvia they were meant of you No true Love between Man and Woman No no 't is not Love You may talk till Dooms day If you tell me 't is more than meer Satisfaction I 'll never believe a Tittle you say Tho' Baxter and Oates were the Heads of your Faction The Poets therefore were a number of Owls To make such a stir with a Baby-face God While they set poor Priapus to scare the wild Fowls That rules with a far more Scepter-like Rod. 'T is true he may sometimes be blindly put to 't But the Bow and the Arrows are s●rely his due For when that his Arrows are ready to shoot They make the more pleasing wound of the two 'T was he was the Father of all the Graces For he 's the beginning and end of our wooing Your Smiles and your Ogles and alluring Grimaces They all do but end in Feeling and Doing When a Man to a Woman comes creeping and his cringing And spends his high Raptures on her Nose and her Eyes 'T is Priapus inspires the Talkative Engine And all for the sake of her lilly white Thighs Your Vows and Protests your Oaths all and some Ask Solon Lycurgus both Learned and Smart They 'll tell you the place from whence they all come Is half a Yard almost below the Heart There 's nothing but Vertue the Object of Love Nor Beauty nor Colour Love minds in the least They 're only the Idols of Pleasure by Iove Where th'Altar's Desire Priapus High Priest Your Lips and your Eyes with their Diamonds and Coral Are only like Capers and Samphire in Pickle For talk what you please 't is her Men adore all That has the best Fiddle Priapus to tickle Now if she be rich 't is the Portion he 'd have Or a Coach and fine Cloaths that her Love do encourage But alass if either do either deceive Love presently cools like a Mess of Beef Porridge Then if this be your Love the Devil take Love Where Self-Satisfaction is all the design But let me have that which all Men approve An Angel in Purse and a Glass of good Wine A Satyr against Poetry In a Letter to the Lord D. LET my Endeavours as my Hopes depend On you the Orphan's Trust the Muse's Friend The Great good Man whose kind Resolves declare Vertue and Verse the Object of your Care When hungry Poets now abdicate their Rhimes For some more darling Folly of the Times S l and I here forbear to name Condemn'd to Lawrel tho' unknown to Fame Recanting S tle brings the tuneful Ware Which wiser Smithfield damn'd to Sturbridge-Fair Protests his Tragedies and Libels fail To yield him Paper Penny-Loaves and Ale And bids our Youth by his Example fly The Love of Politicks and Poetry And all Retreats except New-hall refuse To shelter tuneful D 's Jockey Muse. Is there a Man to these

No Jealousies their present Joys beset But in soft Chat they past their drowsie time And neither knew nor could suspect a Crime So harmless Doves with Cooing murmurs meet And oft with their repeated Billings greet Yet all secure from Guilt they knew no shame Their Souls ne'er swell'd with that impurer Flame Condemn'd by Vertue but with Thoughts as free As the first Man in the World's Infancy They pleas'd each other not those untaught Smiles By which our fearless Infant Age beguiles Scythians of all their Rage not that blest Fire Which does the vast Superior World inspire With never-fading Love had less offence Or chaster Thoughts or nobler Innocence Melania's Bosom chast as that pure Snow Which faming Winds from Northern Mountains blow No untam'd wish e'er knew that Virgin-seat Thither no modish Follies durst retreat But sacred Innocence there built her Nest Richer than all the Spices of the East Sweeter than Odours from those wond'rous Fires Wherein the Phoenix now full-aged expires Damon's maturer Age to Vertue 's Lore Submissive long the deep Impressions bore Of sweet Melania's Goodness all his Breast The fair Ideas of her Soul possest His Heart no Lawless Fancies e'er could move Fill'd with his own Astraea's boundless Love Astraea too Melania's Soul possest Astraea with Melania's Love was blest While Love and Friendship Damon's Heart divide No Ebb e'er slakes his double rising Tide But both Poetic lofty Dreams outflew Chast as Astraea's as Melania's true But jealous Fools disturb'd their envy'd ease Nor can the Rules of sacred Friendship please Unnurtured Souls whose groveling Fancies rove Only on senseless Lusts and Brutish Love And as from that huge Elm which shades our Cell Broke by a Storm the spreading Branches fell And torn from their old Trunk and unsupply'd By native Sap soon dropp'd their Leaves and dy'd So fell Melania so the blushing Flowers Of Poppies sink opprest by hasty Showers The Cowslip so when to the Sithe it yields In its own Sweets enbalm'd perfumes the fragrant Fields ALTHAEA Such is thy Voice my Thyrsis such thy Song The Verse so easie and the words so strong That should the Gods of Love and Music joyn Their Harmony my dear must yield to thine Not drooping Plants love more the gentle Rains Or pretty Nymphs to trip it o'er the Plains Or wearied Swains in coolest Shades to sleep Or Damon o'er Melania's Hearse to weep Than I to hear my tuneful Thyrsis sing And to my longing Ears her dearest Name to bring And if just Fame thy Rustic Muse can give Or Vertue from Oblivion's force retrieve Ever Melania's Love and Praise and Name shall live The Tempest A Fragment WHen the next horrid Scene salutes their Eyes And nothing they discern but Seas and Skies Nor these too long for now black Clouds arise Contending Winds from several Quarters roar And rising Seas rowl to the foaming Shoar The Clam'rous Saylers climb the rattling Shrouds And horrid Thunder rends the bellowing Clouds Flashes of Fire with their amazing Light Strike through the Gloom and interrupt the Night The hideous deep restoring to their Sight Vows like themselves lost by the Winds their form Their Pilot quits the Helm their Pilot now 's the Storm Fate on amain with the next Billow rowls A damp like Death strikes thro' their Limbs and Horror thro' their Souls To the Sacred Memory of Charles the First HAil Glorious Martyr Saint triumphant Hail Fix'd now above our sordid Earth Bless'd with an immortal Birth Lovely gentle soft and kind A Royal still and a Seraphic Mind Against whose radiant Head no sullen Clouds prevail Hail thy great Master's parallel He too was born a Prince divinely pure From Ills within himself secure But from abroad pursu'd with all the Storms of Hell I see I see the wond'rous Infant fly Array'd with Godlike Majesty The Winds and Clouds his little Frowns obey And bright Angelic Guards attend him all the way Those happy Subjects still attend their King And all around their Hallelujahs sing With their great Master's Lot content In an inglorious Banishment While impious Slaves stand of his Throne possess'd By every Fiend ador'd and every Rebel bless'd See where the Youth returns his wond'rous Eyes Bright as that Lightsom Orb which gilds the Skies His Shape Divine ineffable his Face Above the Charms of Human Race Cast in a perfect Mould The Lines all easie and the Figure bold By an unerring Artist's Hand design'd To represent in Flesh and Blood As far as a material Substance could The lively Image of his own Almighty Mind Cloth'd all with Goodness and adorn'd with Love Wise as the Serpent harmless as the Dove And kind as every Influence above At his Command a sudden Calm o'er-spread The rolling Seas And ev'ry fierce Disease Before him fled And with his mighty Voice he rouz'd the slumb'ring Dead All Nature to his Hand submissly bow'd And Hell it self his sacred Pow'r allow'd While with a thousand Miracles he try'd To cicurate his Rebel 's boundless Pride Yet all so good so kind so free As none could e'er effect but he The glorious Central point of all the Deity But Man th' unhappy cause of his own dreadful Woes No bounds of Reason or of Prudence knows But with a wild unguided Soul Does all his own Felicities controul And tho' in Shades of horrid Night He gropes and pores and longs for Light Yet when it comes he gapes sickens at the sight So the fam'd Jewish Rabbins wond'ring stood Crush'd and o'erwhelm'd with Good Blind with Light 's invading Beams Drunk with Mercy 's flowing Streams And mad with their own senceless Dreams Not their own Monarchs Rights or Influence understood Hark how they curse Hark how the slaves revile Their Lord and Ermine Innocence defile Oppress him with a thousand Lyes A thousand silly Crimes surmise Now in a friendly smooth Disguise And then as surly Enemies A thousand Rebel Arts and Stratagems devise While he the Tyrant and the Traytor stands Obedient to his own Rebellious Slaves commands He too the mark of common Scorn was made Kiss'd by a Iudas and betray'd Charg'd with a fond Design Their ancient Policies to undermine Slily to introduce the Roman Power And make Exotic Rites Iudaean Schemes devour Accus'd condemn'd rais'd to the fatal Tree Branded with shameless Infamy And Malice still pursu'd his sacred Name Then to be true or just or kind To be to Christian Laws confin'd To own their Soveraign Prince or strive To keep his Honours or his Rights alive Expos'd to danger and expos'd to Shame But the Day breaks the sullen Gloom withdraws And Death rescinds his Perso-Median Laws His Bars his Chains his Rockey Walls give way And jocund Angels bless the rising Day Up to the Palace of the Skies On humble Clouds the mighty Conqueror flies The Crown the Scepter and the Throne All chang'd no Cross no Reed no Thorns were seen But with a sweet Majestic Mien Fair Love still in his Eyes triumphant shone None press'd