Poems on Several Occasions With Anne Boleyn to King Henry VIII. An Epistle. By Mrs. Elizabeth Tollet. The Second Edition |
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[Now Night her highest Noon ascends] |
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 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
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[Now Night her highest Noon ascends]
Now Night her highest Noon ascends,And o'er the Globe her Shades extends:
While all her shining Lamps of Light,
The Soul to solemn Thought invite.
How were they made? by whom? or when?
And whence arose the Race of Men?
From ancient Chaos did they come?
Must Chaos be again their Tomb?
Who lighted up the vital Fire?
Whither again shall that retire?
On that important Question pause:
And learn that Nature had a Cause,
From whom the whole Creation springs;
The Cause of Causes and of Things.
The Mass in fun'ral Flames shall burn;
And rise a Phœnix from its Urn.
But, must the Soul, uncloth'd and cold,
Appear, her Maker to behold?
Or shall the gaping Grave restore,
The Robe of Flesh which once she wore?
O who shall paint her Shame and Fear?
Think, O my Soul! thou must be there;
And wish, too late, to lay aside
Thy Passions veil'd beneath thy Pride.
O God! if e'er my heedless Youth
Deny'd, or doubted of thy Truth,
If unrelenting or unjust
I spurn'd the Poor, or wrong'd my Trust,
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But shrink to hide me in the Tomb:
Or to the Rocks and Mountains call
To whelm me in their gen'ral Fall.
Alas! the Frailties, which are mine,
I only can with Life resign:
When my chill Blood forgets to roll;
And Death benumbs my Sense and Soul.
These I commit to thee alone,
Thou public Victim to atone,
And judge triumphant on thy Throne.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |