His winged Hosts flie through all Coasts, together gathering Both good and bad, both quick and dead, and all to Judgment bring. Out of their holes those creeping Moles, that hid themselves for fear, By force they take, and quickly make before the Judge appear. Thus every one before the Throne of Christ the Judge is brought, Both righteous and impious that good or ill hath wrought. A separation, and diff'ring station by Christ appointed is (To sinners sad) 'twixt good and bad, 'twixt Heirs of woe and bliss. PHILIP FRENEAU THE WILD HONEYSUCKLE Fair flower, that dost so comely grow, Hid in this silent, dull retreat, Untouched thy homed blossoms blow, Unseen thy little branches greet: No roving foot shall crush thee here, No busy hand provoke a tear. By Nature's self in white arrayed, She bade thee shun the vulgar eye, And planted here the guardian shade, And sent soft waters murmuring by; Thus quietly thy summer goes, Thy days declining to repose. Smit with those charms, that must decay, I grieve to see your future doom; They died--nor were those flowers more gay, The flowers that did in Eden bloom; Unpitying frosts, and Autumn's power, Shall leave no vestige of this flower. From morning suns and evening dews At first thy little being came; If nothing once, you nothing lose, For when you die you are the same; The space between is but an hour, The frail duration of a flower. TO A HONEY BEE Thou, born to sip the lake or spring, Or quaff the waters of the stream, Why hither come on vagrant wing? Does Bacchus tempting seem,-- Did he for you this glass prepare? Will I admit you to a share? Did storms harass or foes perplex, Did wasps or king-birds bring dismay-- Did wars distress, or labors vex, Or did you miss your way? A better seat you could not take Than on the margin of this lake. Welcome!--I hail you to my glass All welcome, here, you find; Here, let the cloud of trouble pass, Here, be all care resigned. This fluid never fails to please, And drown the griefs of men or bees.