The poetical works of Robert Herrick | ||
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His coming to the Sepulcher.
Hence they have born my Lord: Behold! the StoneIs rowl'd away; and my sweet Saviour's gone!
Tell me, white Angell; what is now become
Of Him, we lately seal'd up in this Tombe?
Is He, from hence, gone to the shades beneath,
To vanquish Hell, as here He conquer'd Death?
If so; I'le thither follow, without feare;
And live in Hell, if that my Christ stayes there.
The poetical works of Robert Herrick | ||