SEE what an undisturbed tear
She weeps for her last sleep!
But viewing her, straight waked, a star,
She weeps that she did weep.
Grief ne’er before did tyrannize
On the honour of that brow,
And at the wheels of her brave eyes
Was captive led, till now.
Thus for a saint’s apostasy,
The unimagined woes
And sorrows of the hierarchy
None but an angel knows.
Thus for lost soul’s recovery,
The clapping of the wings
And triumph of this victory
None but an angel sings.
So none but she knows to bemoan
This equal virgin’s fate;
None but Lucasta can her crown
Of glory celebrate.
Then dart on me, Chaste Light, one ray,
By which I may descry
Thy joy clear through this cloudy day
To dress my sorrow by.