the turning sphear
  His ready Harbinger,
  With Turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing,                        50
  And waving wide her mirtle wand,
  She strikes a universall Peace through Sea and Land.

  IV

  No War, or Battails sound
  Was heard the World around,
  The idle spear and shield were high up hung;
  The hooked Chariot stood
  Unstain'd with hostile blood,
  The Trumpet spake not to the armed throng,
  And Kings sate still with awfull eye,
  As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.                     60

  V

  But peacefull was the night
  Wherin the Prince of light
  His raign of peace upon the earth began:
  The Windes with wonder whist,
  Smoothly the waters kist,
  Whispering new joyes to the milde Ocean,
  Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
  While Birds of Calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.

  VI

  The Stars with deep amaze
  Stand fit in steadfast gaze,                                         70
  Bending one way their pretious influence,
  And will not take their flight,
  For all the morning light,
  Or Lucifer that often warned them thence;
  But in their glimmering Orbs did glow,
  Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.

  VII

  And though the shady gloom
  Had given day her room,
  The Sun himself with-held his wonted speed,
  And hid his head for shame,                                          80
  As his inferior flame,
  The new enlightened world no more should need;
  He saw a greater Sun appear
  Then his bright Throne, or burning Axletree could bear.

  VIII

  The Shepherds on the Lawn,
  Or ere the point of dawn,
  Sate simply chatting in a rustic row;
  Full little thought they than,
  That the mighty Pan
  Was kindly com to live with them below;                              90
  Perhaps their loves, or els their sheep,
  Was all that did their silly thoughts so busie keep.

  IX

  When such Musick sweet
  Their hearts and ears did greet,
  As never was by mortal finger strook,
  Divinely-warbled voice
  Answering the stringed noise,
  As all their souls in blisfull rapture took:
  The Air such pleasure loth to lose,
  With  thousand echo's still prolongs each heav'nly close.           100

  X

  Nature that heard such  sound
  Beneath  the hollow round
  of Cynthia's seat the Airy region thrilling,
  Now was almost won
  To think her part was don
  And that her raign had here its last fulfilling;
  She knew such harmony alone
  Could hold all Heav'n and Earth in happier union.

  XI

  At last surrounds their sight
  A globe of circular light,                                          110
  That with long beams the shame faced night arrayed
  The helmed Cherubim
  And sworded Seraphim,
  Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displaid,
  Harping in loud and solemn quire,
  With unexpressive notes to Heav'ns new-born Heir.

  XII

  Such Musick (as 'tis said)
  Before was never made,
  But when of old the sons of morning sung,
  While the Creator Great
  His constellations set,                                             120
  And the well-ballanc't world on hinges hung,
  And cast the dark foundations deep,
  And bid the weltring waves their oozy channel keep.

  XIII

  Ring out ye Crystall sphears,
  Once bless our human ears,
  (If ye have power to touch our senses so)
  And let your silver chime
  Move in melodious time;
  And let the Base of Heav'ns deep Organ blow,                        130
  And with your ninefold harmony
  Make up full consort to th'Angelike symphony.

  XIV

  For if such holy Song
  Enwrap our fancy long,
  Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold,
  And speckl'd vanity
  Will sicken soon and die,
  And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould,
  And Hell it self will pass away
  And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.                 140

  XV

  Yea Truth, and Justice then
  Will down return to men,
  Th'enameld Arras of the Rain-bow wearing,
  And Mercy set between
  Thron'd in Celestiall sheen,
  With radiant feet the tissued clouds down stearing,
  And Heav'n as at som festivall,
  Will open wide the gates of her high Palace Hall.

  XVI

  But wisest Fate sayes  no,
  This must not yet be so,                                            150
  The Babe lies yet in smiling Infancy,
  That on the bitter cross
  Must redeem our loss;
  So both himself and us to glorifie:
  Yet first to those ychain'd in sleep,
  The Wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep,

  XVII

  With such a horrid clang
  As on Mount Sinai rang
  While the red fire, and smouldring clouds out brake:
  The aged Earth agast                                                160
  With terrour of that blast,
  Shall from the surface to the center shake;
  When at the worlds last session,
  The dreadfull Judge in middle Air shall spread his throne.

  XVIII

  And then at last  our bliss
  Full and perfect is,
  But now begins; for from this happy day
  Th'old Dragon under ground
  In straiter limits bound,
  Not half so far casts his usurped sway,                             170
  And wrath to see his Kingdom fail,
  Swindges the scaly Horrour of his foulded tail.

  XIX

  The Oracles are dumm,
  No voice or hideous humm
  Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.
  Apollo from his shrine
  Can no more divine,
  With hollow shreik the steep of Delphos leaving.
  No nightly trance, or breathed spell,
  Inspire's the pale-ey'd Priest from the prophetic cell.             180

  XX

  The lonely mountains o're,
  And the resounding shore,
  A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament;
  From haunted spring, and dale
  Edg'd with poplar pale
  The parting Genius is with sighing sent,
  With flowre-inwov'n tresses torn
  The Nimphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.

  XXI

  In consecrated Earth,
  And on the holy Hearth,                                             190
  The Lars, and Lemures moan with midnight plaint,
  In Urns, and Altars round,
  A drear, and dying sound
  Affrights the Flamins at their service quaint;
  And the chill Marble seems to sweat,
  While each peculiar power forgoes his wonted seat.

  XXII

  Peor, and Baalim,
  Forsake their Temples dim,
  With that twise-batter'd god of Palestine,
  And mooned Ashtaroth,                                               200
  Heav'ns Queen and Mother both,
  Now sits not girt with Tapers holy shine,
  The Libyc Hammon shrinks his horn,
  In vain the Tyrian Maids their wounded Thamuz mourn.

  XXIII

  And sullen Moloch fled,
  Hath left in shadows dred,
  His burning Idol all of blackest hue,
  In vain with Cymbals ring,
  They