Death.

“Though since thy first sad entrance

By just Abel’s blood,

’Tis now six thousand years well nigh,

And still thy sovereignty holds good;

Yet by none art thou understood.

“We talk and name thee with much ease,

As a tryed thing,

And every one can slight his lease,

As if it ended in a Spring,

Which shades and bowers doth rent-free bring.

“To thy dark land these heedless go,

But there was One

Who search’d it quite through to and fro,

And then, returning like the Sun,

Discover’d all that there is done.

“And since his death we throughly see

All thy dark way;

Thy shades but thin and narrow be,

Which his first looks will quickly fray:

Mists make but triumphs for the day.”

“With what deep murmurs, through time’s silent stealth,

Doth thy transparent, cool and watry wealth

Here flowing fall,

And chide and call,

As if his liquid, loose Retinue staid

Lingring, and were of this steep place afraid.”