ODE X.
[The Day was Darke, and Heaven his bright face Shrouds]
1
The Day was Darke, and Heaven his bright face Shrouds,
In Sable Clouds;
The gaudie Sun, in his Meridian Light,
Was darke as Night;
And horrid Stormes came rolling on the Skye.
The Thunder Strucke, the Lightning feirce did flye;
The Ayre incenséd, all her Streames let fall;
The Cataracts of Heaven theire Doores set ope;
Whose gushing Torrents call
Fresh ffloods, to crosse the avaritious Hope
Of men, to looke it should be faire at all.
2
My Sober Muse can say how it did wound
My Sinnew-bound
Vnvsefull Members; how my Sence was dull,
And my Soule full
Of horror and amazement; I had lost
The nearest faculties that life could boast;
Strucke with the Feare, into an Extasie
Of Feare, like Death; indeed halfe dead with Feare;
Yet knew noe reason why:
I summond all my Sences in, to beare;
But they were Dead, with my Soule's Agonie.
3
When loe! a glance of heaven's Immortall ray,
Found out a way,
(Through the vast mure of Night, into my Soule;
And did controule
My Stupid Sences, putt away my Feare,
Made stronge my frailtie, and my doubts made cleare;
That recollecting all my Thoughts made new,
And weighing the late cause of this Affright;
Vntroubled Heavens I veiwe;
The Sun vnclouded, and the Welkin bright;
Onlie the Storme was in my bosome true.
For vnto him that hath a troubled Spright,
Time has noe Ioy, nor Heaven's bright fface noe Light.
