 | Poems |  |
On the future burning of the World.
No more shall the o're-laden clouds dissolveIn spouts of raine, and so the world involve
In a wild deluge, which shall swell so high,
Its towring height shall tempt the vaulted skie;
And even invite the sullen starres, to weare
Vpon each glittring beame a mourning teare;
Which they againe shall mutually let fall,
As a Rite due to the worlds Funerall.
No more shall warie mankinde, to beguile
The rage o'th Flood, lurk in a wooden Ile:
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With her pollutions, and so deeply soil'd
With the dark spots of sin, that 'twere but vaine
To think, that water should wipe off each staine
That sullies it; God will display his ire
In cataracts of all-consuming fire,
With which this Globe of Earth so long shall burn,
Till it into repentant ashes turn:
And, till, at last, it but one Torch become,
To light expiring Nature to her Tombe.
| Poems | |