Classic Poem

Rise, Heire of fresh Eternity,
From thy Virgin Tombe:
Rise mighty man of wonders, and thy world with thee
Thy Tombe, the universall East,
Natures new wombe,
Thy Tombe, faire Immortalities perfumed Nest.

Of all the Gloryes Make Noone gay
This is the Morne.
This rocke buds forth the fountaine of the streames of Day.
In joyes white Annals live this houre,
When life was borne,
No cloud scoule on his radiant lids no tempest lowre.

Life, by this light's Nativity
All creatures have.
Death onely by this Dayes just Doome is forc't to Dye;
Nor is Death forc't; for may hee ly
Thron'd in thy Grave;
Death will on this condition be content to Dy.