Classic Poem

Hark ! she is call'd, the parting houre is come.
Take thy Farewell, poor world! heavn must goe home
A piece of heav'nly earth; Purer and brighter
Than the chaste starres, whose choice lamps come to light her
While through the crystall orbes, clearer than they
She climbes; and makes a far more milky way.
She 's call'd. Hark, how the dear immortall dove
Sighes to his silver mate, rise up, my love!
Rise up, my fair, my spotlesse one!
The winter's past, the rain is gone.

The spring is come, the flowrs appear
No sweets, but thou, are wanting here.
Come away, my love!
Come away, my dove! cast off delay,
The court of heav'n is come
To wait upon thee home; Come come away!
The flowrs appear,
Or quickly would, wert thou once here.
The spring is come, or if it stay,
'Tis to keep time with thy delay.
The rain is gone, except so much as we
Detain in needful teares to weep the want of thee.
The winter's past.
Or if he make lesse haste,
His answer is, why, she does so.
If sommer come not, how can winter goe.
Come away, come away.
The shrill winds chide, the waters weep thy stay;
The fountains murmur; and each loftiest tree
Bowes low'st his heavy top, to look for thee.
Come away, my love.
Come away, my dove, &c.
She 's call'd again. And will she goe?
When heavn bids come, who can say no?
Heavn calls her, and she must away.
Heavn will not, and she cannot stay.
Goe then; goe G LORIOUS .
On the golden wings
Of the bright youth of heavn, that sings
Under so sweet a Burthen. Goe,
Since thy dread son will have it so.
And while thou goest, our song and we
Will, as we may, reach after thee.
H AIL , holy Queen of humble hearts!
We in thy prayse will have our parts.
Thy pretious Name shall be
Thy self to us; and we
With holy care will keep it by us.
We to the last
Will hold it fast
And no A SSUMPTION shall deny us.
All the sweetest showres
Of our fairest flowres
Will we strow upon it.
Though our sweets cannot make
It sweeter, they can take
Themselves new sweetness from it.
M ARIA , men and Angels sing
M ARIA , mother of our K ING .
Live , rosy princesse, Live . And may the bright
Crown of a most incomparable light
Embrace thy radiant browes. O may the best
Of everlasting joyes bath thy white brest.
Live , our chast love, the holy mirth
Of heavn; the humble pride of earth.
Live, crown of women; Queen of men.
Live mistresse of our song. And when
Our weak desires have done their best,
Sweet Angels come, and sing the rest.