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Eleg. 22.
Ye drooping sonnes of Sion, O, arise,
And shut the flood-gates of your flowing eyes,
Sur cease your sorrowes, and your joyes attend,
For heaven hath spoke it, and your griefes shal end;
Beleeve it Sion, seeke no curious signe,
And wait heav'ns pleasure, as heav'n waited thine;
And thou triumphing Edom, that dost lye
In beds of Roses, thou, whose prosp'rous eye
Did smile, to see the Gates of Sion fall,
Shalt be subjected to the selfe-same thrall;
Sion, that weepes, shalt smile; and Edoms eye,
That smiles so fast, as fast shall shortly cry.
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