Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/329

 In those white cloisters live secure From the rude blasts of wanton breath!— Each hour more innocent and pure, Till you shall wither into death.

Then that which living gave you room, Your glorious sepulchre shall be. There wants no marble for a tomb Whose breast hath marble been to me.

298. Nox Nocti Indicat Scientiam

When I survey the bright Celestial sphere; So rich with jewels hung, that Night Doth like an Ethiop bride appear:

My soul her wings doth spread And heavenward flies, Th' Almighty's mysteries to read In the large volumes of the skies.

For the bright firmament Shoots forth no flame So silent, but is eloquent In speaking the Creator's name.

No unregarded star Contracts its light Into so small a character, Removed far from our human sight,

But if we steadfast look We shall discern In it, as in some holy book, How man may heavenly knowledge learn.