Page:Poetical Works of John Oldham.djvu/48

38 Hence, though at once thy soul lived here and there, Yet heaven alone its thoughts did share; It owned no home, but in the active sphere. Its motions always did to that bright centre roll, And seemed to inform thee only on parole. Look how the needle does to its dear north incline, As, wer't not fixed, 'twould to that region climb; Or mark what hidden force Bids the flame upwards take its course, And makes it with that swiftness rise, As if 'twere winged by the air through which it flies. Such a strong virtue did thy inclinations bend, And made them still to the blest mansions tend. That mighty slave, whom the proud victor's rage Shut prisoner in a golden cage, Condemned to glorious vassalage, Ne'er longed for dear enlargement more, Nor his gay bondage with less patience bore, Than this great spirit brooked its tedious stay, While fettered here in brittle clay, And wished to disengage and fly away. It vexed and chafed, and still desired to be Released to the sweet freedom of eternity. Nor were its wishes long unheard, Fate soon at its desire appeared, And straight for an assault prepared. A sudden and a swift disease First on thy heart, life's chiefest fort, does seize, And then on all the suburb-vitals preys: Next it corrupts thy tainted blood, And scatters poison through its purple flood. Sharp achès in thick troops it sends, And pain, which like a rack the nerves extends.