Hark! she is call'd, the parting houre is come; 1 Take thy farewell, poor World! Heaun must go home. A peice of heau'nly earth; purer and brighter Then the chast starres, whose choise lamps come to light her, Whil'st through the crystall orbes, clearer then they 5 She climbes; and makes a farre more Milkey Way. She's call'd! Hark, how the dear immortall Doue Sighes to His syluer mate, 'Rise vp, my loue'! Rise vp, my fair, my spotlesse one! The Winter's past, the rain is gone; 10 The Spring is come, the flowrs appear, No sweets, (save thou,) are wanting here. Come away, my loue! Come away, my doue! Cast off delay; 15 The court of Heau'n is come To wait vpon thee home; Come, come away! The flowrs appear, Or quickly would, wert thou once here. 20 The Spring is come, or if it stay 'Tis to keep time with thy delay. The rain is gone, except so much as we Detain in needfull teares to weep the want of thee. The Winter's past, 25 Or if he make lesse hast, His answer is, why she does so, If Sommer come not, how can Winter goe? Come away, come away! The shrill winds chide, the waters weep thy stay; 30 The fountains murmur, and each loftyest tree Bowes low'st his leauy top, to look for thee. Come away, my loue! Come away, my doue &c. She's call'd again. And will she goe? 35 When Heau'n bidds come, who can say no? Heau'n calls her, and she must away, Heau'n will not, and she cannot stay. Goe then; goe, gloriovs on the golden wings Of the bright youth of Heau'n, that sings 40 Vnder so sweet a burthen. Goe, Since thy dread Son will haue it so. And while thou goest, our song and we Will, as we may, reach after thee. Hail, holy queen of humble hearts! 45 We in thy prayse will haue our parts. And though thy dearest lookes must now give light To none but the blest heavens, whose bright Beholders, lost in sweet delight, Feed for ever their faire sight 50 With those divinest eyes, which we And our darke world noe more shall see; Though our poore eyes are parted soe, Yet shall our lipps never lett goe Thy gracious name, but to the last 55 Our loving song shall hold it fast. Thy pretious name shall be Thy self to vs; and we With holy care will keep it by vs. We to the last 60 Will hold it fast, And no Assvmption shall deny vs. All the sweetest showres Of our fairest flowres