Crowned, girdled, garbed and shod with light and fire, Son first-born of the morning, sovereign star! Soul nearest ours of all, that wert most far, Most far off in the abysm of time, thy lyre Hung highest above the dawn-enkindled quire Where all ye sang together, all that are, And all the starry songs behind thy car Rang sequence, all our souls acclaim thee sire. "If all the pens that ever poets held Had fed the feeling of their masters' thoughts," And as with rush of hurtling chariots The flight of all their spirits were impelled Toward one great end, thy glory--nay, not then, Not yet might'st thou be praised enough of men. II WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE Not if men's tongues and angels' all in one Spake, might the word be said that might speak Thee. Streams, winds, woods, flowers, fields, mountains, yea, the sea, What power is in them all to praise the sun? His praise is this,--he can be praised of none. Man, woman, child, praise God for him; but he Exults not to be worshipped, but to be. He is; and, being, beholds his work well done. All joy, all glory, all sorrow, all strength, all mirth, Are his: without him, day were night on earth. Time knows not his from time's own period. All lutes, all harps, all viols, all flutes, all lyres, Fall dumb before him ere one string suspires. All stars are angels; but the sun is God. III BEN JONSON Broad-based, broad-fronted, bounteous, multiform, With many a valley impleached with ivy and vine, Wherein the springs of all the streams run wine, And many a crag full-faced against the storm, The mountain where thy Muse's feet made warm Those lawns that revelled with her dance divine Shines yet with fire as it was wont to shine From tossing torches round the dance aswarm. Nor less, high-stationed on the grey grave heights, High-thoughted seers with heaven's heart-kindling lights Hold converse: and the herd of meaner things Knows or by fiery scourge or fiery shaft When wrath on thy broad brows has risen, and laughed Darkening thy soul with shadow of thunderous wings. IV BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER An hour ere sudden sunset fired the west, Arose two stars upon the pale deep east. The hall of heaven was clear for night's high feast, Yet was not yet day's fiery heart at rest. Love leapt up from his mother's burning breast To see those warm twin lights, as day decreased, Wax wider, till when all the sun had ceased As suns they shone from evening's kindled crest. Across them and between, a quickening fire, Flamed Venus, laughing with appeased desire. Their dawn, scarce lovelier for the gleam of tears, Filled half the hollow shell 'twixt heaven and earth With sound like moonlight, mingling moan and mirth, Which rings and glitters down the darkling years. V PHILIP MASSINGER