Tixall Poetry.
71
The bird heard all, and soone replyed;
Sweet, cease thy brother to bewaile:
(It was an angell lately try'd
The feathers of a nightingale:)
Sweet, cease thy brother to bewaile:
(It was an angell lately try'd
The feathers of a nightingale:)
Oh, cease thy brothers fate to moane,
Transferd to heavens more blest abode,
And sing with me this nobler tone,
O man, O man, O what is God!
Transferd to heavens more blest abode,
And sing with me this nobler tone,
O man, O man, O what is God!
He breathes in our seraphicke fire,
Feeds in our starry milkye road,
And sings in our eternall quire,
O man, O man, O what is God!
Feeds in our starry milkye road,
And sings in our eternall quire,
O man, O man, O what is God!
