Go you unborn, beder Dear Herbert's Tomb;
No more fuch Babes are in Dame Natures Womb.
No more fuch blazing Comets fhall appear,
Nor leave fo happy Influences here

Go thaw your Hearts at his Celestial Fire,
And what you cannot comprehend admire.

Go you dark Poems, dark even as the Skies,
Make the Scales fall from our dark dazling Eyes,
Mirrors were made to mend, not mar our Sight,
Gloe-worms to glitter in th' moft gloomy Night,
About thofe glorious Regions he is fled,
Where once Saint Paul was rapt and ravished,

Here a Divine, Prophet and Poet lyes,
That lay'd up Manna for Pofterities.

P. D. Efq:

The Church Militant.

HE Church's Progrefs is a Mafter-piece,
Limn'd to the Life, of Egypt, Rome,and Greeces
Wherein he gives the Conclave fuch a Blow,
They ne'er receiv'd from either Friend or Foe.
England and France do bear an equal fhare
in his Predictions, which Time will declare;
Here's height of Malice, here's prodigious Luft,
Impudent finning, Cruelty, Distrust;

Here's black Ingratitude, here's Pride and Scorn,
Here's damned Oaths, that cause the Land to mourn;^
And here's Oppreffion, Marks of future Rane,
And here's Hypocrify the Counter-Pane,

Here's

Here's love of Guineas, curfed Root of all,
And here's Religion turn'd up to the Wall:
And could we fee with Herbert's Eagle Eyes
Without Checkmate Religion Weftward flies..
A most fad Sacrifice was made of late

Of God's poor Lambs by Pharifaick Hate.
For Difcipline with Doctrine fo to jarr,
Was juft like bringing Juftice to the Bar.
Was it the Will, or Judgment, or Commands,
Of the great Pilot for to pass the Sands;
Well may we hope, that our quick-fighted State.
Will take God's Grievance into a Debate.
Cathedral Priests long fince have laid about
Hammer and Tongs, to drive Religion out.
Her Grace and Majefty makes them fo fraid,
They cry Content, and fo efpoufe her Maid.
She's decent, lovely, chaft, divine they say,
She loves their Sons, that fing our Sins away.
Could we but count the Thousands every Year,
These Dreams confume, the Mufick is too dear,
When Eli's Sons made Luxury their God,
Their Widows nam'd their Pofthumes Icabod.
They both were flain, God's facred Ark was loft,
Though they had with it a most mighty Hoft.
Well may Ingratitude make us all mourn;
Pearls we receive, poor Peebles we return.
Now Sein is fwallowing Tiber; if the Thames,
By letting in them both pollute her Streams ;
Or if the Seers fhall connive or wink,
Beware the Thunderbolt, Migremus hinc.
Olet me die, and not furvive to fee
Before my Death Religion's Obfequy.
Religion and dear Truth will prove at length
The Alpha and Omega of our Strength;

Our Botz, our Fachin, our Great Britain's Glory,
Look'd on by Owls as a Romantick Story,

A $

1

CIES

THE EFFIGIES

OF

GEORGE

HERBERT

Behold an Orator, Divinely fage,
The Prophet and Apoftle of that age.
View hut his Porch and Temple you shall fee
The Body of Divine Philofophy.
Examine well the Lmes of his dead Face,
Therein you may discern Wisdom and Grace.
Noro if the Shell to lovely doth appear,
How Orient was the Pearl Impryfon'd here!