Rise heire of fresh Eternity
From thy virgin tombe!
Rise mighty Man of wonders, and Thy World with Thee!
Thy tombe the uniuersall East,
Nature's new wombe,
Thy tombe, fair Immortalitie's perfumed nest.
Of all the glories make Noone gay,
This is the Morne;
This Rock buds forth the fountaine of the streames of Day;
In Joye's white annalls live this howre
When Life was borne;
No cloud scoule on His radiant lids, no tempest lower.
Life, by this Light's nativity
All creatures have;
Death onely by this Daye's just doome is forc't to dye,
Nor is Death forc't; for may he ly
Thron'd in Thy grave,
Death will on this condition be content to dye.