Classic Poem

ODE X

1

The Day was Darke; and Heaven, his bright face Shrouds,
In Sable Clouds;
The gaudie Sun, in his Meridian Light,
Was Darke, as Night;
And horrid Stormes, came rolling on the Skye;
The Thunder Strucke, the Lightning feirce did flye;
The Ayre incensed, all her Streames let fall;
The Cataracts of Heaven, theire Doores set ope,
Whose gushing Torrents call
Fresh Floods, to crosse the avaritious Hope
Of Men; to looke it should be faire at all.

2

My Sober Muse can say how it did wound
My Sinnew-bound
Unusefull Members; how my Sence was dull
And my Soule full
Of horror and amazement; I had lost
The nearest faculties, that life could boast;
Strucke with the Feare, into an Extasie
Of Feare, like Death; indeed halfe dead with Feare;
Yet knew noe reason why.
I summond all my Sences in, to beare;
But they were Dead, with my Soules Agonie;

3

When loe, a glance of heavens Immortall ray,
Found out a way
(Through the vast mure of Night) into my Soule
And did controule
My Stupid Sences; putt away my Feare;
Made stronge my frailtie; and my doubts made cleare
That recollecting all my Thoughts, made new,
And weighing the late cause, of this Affright,
Untroubled Heavens I veiwe,
The Sun unclouded, and the Welkin bright;
Onlie, the Storme was in my bosome true.

For unto him, that hath a troubled Spright;
Time has noe Joy, nor Heavens bright Face, noe Light.