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An Anatomy of the World. |
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The first Anniversary. |
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When that rich Soul which to her heaven is gone, |
Whom all do celebrate, who know they have one, |
(For who is sure he hath a Soul, unless |
It see, and judg, and follow worthiness, |
And by deeds praise it? he who doth not this, |
May lodg an inmate soul, but 'tis not his) |
When that Queen ended here her progress time, |
And, as t'her standing house to heaven did clime; |
Where loath to make the Saints attend her long, |
She's now a part both of the Quire and Song: |
This World, in that great earthquake languished; |
For in a common bath of tears it bled, |
Which drew the strongest vital spirits out: |
But succour'd them with a perplexed doubt, |
Whether the world did lose, or gain in this, |
(Because since now no other way there is, |
But goodness, to see her, whom all would see, |
All must endeavour to be good as she) |
This great consumption to a fever turn'd, |
And so the world had fits; it joy'd, it mourn'd; |
And, as men think, that Agues physick are, |
And th'ague being spent, give over care: |
So thou sick world, mistak'st thy self to be |
Well, when alas, thou art in a Lethargie: |
Her death did wound and tame thee than, and than |
Thou might'st have better spar'd the Sun,* or man. |
That wound was deep, but 'tis more misery, |
That thou hast lost thy sense and memory.
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[CW: 'Twas] |