Whether I was my selfe, or else did see
Out of my self that Glorious Hierarchie!
Or whether those (in orders rare) or these
Made up One State of Sixtie Venuses;
Or whether Fairies, Syrens, Nymphes they were,
Or Muses, on their mountaine sitting there;
Or some enchanted Place, I do not know
(Or Sharon, where eternall Roses grow.)
This I am sure; I Ravisht stood, as one
Confus'd in utter Admiration.
Me thought I saw them stir, and gently move,
And look as all were capable of Love:
And in their motion smelt much like to flowers
Enspir'd by th'Sun-beams after dews & showers.
There did I see the Reverend Rectresse stand,
Who with her eyes-gleam, or a glance of hand,
Those spirits rais'd; and with like precepts then
(As with a Magick) laid them all agen:
(A happy Realme! When no compulsive Law,
Or fear of it, but Love keeps all in awe.)
Live you great Mistresse of your Arts, and be
A nursing Mother so to Majesty;
As those your Ladies may in time be seene,
For Grace and Carriage, every one a Queene.
One Birth their Parents gave them; but their new,
And better Being, they receive from You.
Mans former Birth is grace-lesse; but the state
Of life comes in, when he's Regenerate.