University of Virginia Library

This Night injoys so sweet a calm;
As th' Air dissolv'd it self to Balm.
So deep a silence all things keep,
As Nature's self were hush't asleep.
Cynthia neglects her watch i'th' Skies,
And drowzy too has clos'd her eyes.
Or is with her Endymion, hid
Under some cloudy Coverlid.
Yet light I through her Curtains 'spy,
Scap'd from the corner of her Eye.

But soon the Harbinger of Day
Chas'd all those gloomy shades away:
With Roses strew'd the Paths o'th' East,
Till Tethys had her Lover drest.
That way I turn'd my ready eye;
When I your Belvoir did espy.
(For all our Vale is fully West,
And Belvoir is its Sun i'th' East)
I gaz'd—the other Sun to 'spy;
When thence a thing did swiftly'r fly
------ than Light
Which in one moment gilds the Sky.
Gently to me the Vision came,
Snatching me up with arms of flame:
And me through yielding Air convey'd,
In Belvoir Chappel safely laid.

The sacred Genii of the place,
Whence it both safety takes, and grace;
Bright Off-springs of cœlestial race.
Their downy Qinnions-Gold out-vy'd,
All o're with sparkling Diamonds ey'd.
Flying about the sacred Frame,
They fann'd the ambient Air to flame;
Or from their eyes the lightning came.
After some Ceremonies past;
They sung ------

------ ‘Our Belvoir now shall last:
‘Our Habitations are secure;
‘The Honour of our Charge is sure.
Flying about, strange Musick plaid;
Their sounding Wings a Consort made,
As every shining Quill therein,
A well-tun'd Organ-pipe had been.

Amaz'd (as well I might) I spoke;
And up the Conventicle broke.
All vanisht but my flaming Guide;
Who to my wond'ring thoughts reply'd.
‘This night thou art a Prophet crown'd;
‘For Belvoir now an Heir has found.
‘The blushing Portals of its East
‘Are with an infant Phœbus blest.
‘With native scarlet he was born:
‘As Roses cloath the Chrysome Morn.
“This ancient Earldom boast now may,
“Its honour finds a full-grown Day.
“Great Rutland is the Evening bright,
“Safe guarded from approaching Night;
“His own seven Stars preserve his light.
“Illustrious Roos, that full-ripe Sun—
“Supplies the glorious place of Noon;
“All shining in Meridian beams:
“Like Virtue crown'd 'twixt two extreams.
“That Infant of the Sun, new born,
“Rutland i'th' Cradle, Sol i'th' Morn;
“Incirc'led with a gentle blaze
“Reflected from his Mothers Face;
“'Till her clos'd Eyes have made the Night,
“Amaz'd ours cannot bear her light.
“This makes us at this Season play,
“Like Birds of Night, avoiding Day.
“W'are tho the Genii of this Place,
“Attendants of this noble Race.
“Thy ready Zeal wee'l so inflame,
“By off'ring, thou shalt purchase fame.
“Thy Incense from the Vale shall rise,
“And crown with curled Clouds these Skies,
“Untill their Jove his golden show'rs
“Upon thy barren Danae pours.
“Thought I this Angel may say true;
“Else he is in a Vision too.

You, Madam, prove so rich a Theme,
You can make Poets in a Dream.