This Angel now is from us fled,
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The Consequences most Men dread.
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Propitious Heaven on us Smile,
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And Frown no more on this sad Isle.
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I must return, the Subject's great,
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My Muse would fain sound a Retreat.
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Oh, how can I define a Soul?
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It swiftly flies from Pole to Pole:
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Takes all the various Figure in
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That are throughout this World of sin,
|
And in the curious Brain they dwell;
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Have each a Room, have each a Cell.
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But Her Great Soul mounted much higher,
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Beyond the Earth, beyond the Fire.
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There She did fix, there she did find
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Objects that suited best her Mind.
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With Angels and Arch-Angels She
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Did joyn in Love and Harmony.
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She oft before to Heaven was fled,
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But now we sadly mourn She's dead:
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She will no more to us return,
|
See how the Stars like Torches burn,
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And strive to light her all the way;
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But that the Sun more bright than they,
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Conveighs her out of Mortals sight,
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Mingling Her Beams with his own Light.
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