2 Poor querulous handful! was't for this I taught thee all that is? Unbowelled nature, showed thee her recruits, And change of suits, And how of death we make A mere mistake; For no thing can-to nothing fall, but still Incorporates by skill, And then returns, and from the womb of things Such treasure brings, As pheenix-like renew'th Both life and youth; For a preserving spirit doth still pass Untainted through this mass, Which doth resolve, produce, and ripen all That to it fall; Nor are those births, which we Thus suffering see, Destroyed at all; but when time's restless wave Their substance doth deprave, And the more noble essence finds his house Sickly and loose, He, ever young, doth wing Unto that spring And source of spirits, where he takes his lot, Till time no more shall rot His passive cottage; which, (though laid aside,) Like some spruce bride, Shall one day rise, and, clothed with shining light, All pure and bright, Remarry to the soul, for'tis most plain Thou only fall'st to be refined again. 3 Then I that here saw darkly in a glass But mists and shadows pass, And, by their own weak shine, did search the springs And course of things, Shall with enlightened rays Pierce all their ways; And as thou saw'st, I in a thought could go To heaven or earth below, To read some star, or mineral, and in state There often sate; So shalt thou then with me, Both winged and free, Rove in that mighty and eternal light, Where no rude shade or night Shall dare approach us; we shall there no more Watch stars, or pore Through melancholy clouds, and say, 'Would it were day!' One everlasting Sabbath there shall run Without succession, and without a sun. 'But go thou thy way until the end be: for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot at the end of the days.'--DAN. xii. 13. THE SEARCH. 'Tis now clear day: I see a rose Bud in the bright east, and disclose The pilgrim-sun. All night have I Spent in a roving ecstasy To find my Saviour. I have been As far as Bethlehem, and have seen His inn and cradle; being there I met the wise men, asked them where He might be found, or what star can Now point him out, grown up a man? To Egypt hence I fled, ran o'er All her parched bosom to Nile's shore, Her yearly nurse; came back, inquired Amongst the doctors, and desired To see the temple, but was shown A little dust, and for the town A heap of ashes, where, some said, A small bright sparkle was abed, Which would one day (beneath the pole) Awake, and then refine the whole.