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 REDEMPTION. 303

Such virtue fire doth yield, to purge from dross, Depurative of souls, renascent clean.

How changed his visage, from when vengeance drove, Precipitous, his chariot's madding wheels, Athwart the gloomy regions of the damn'd. No terrors now his vengeful brow o'erhang; No light'nings flash, nor bowl his thunders more. Where blacken'd fumes around his chariot roll'd, Shine fleecy clouds, pellucid, amber bright, Till gorgeous rays, refracted, vary o'er Prismatic hues, red, purple, blue, green, gold, The like of which, the chariot of the sun, Adorn' d with golden clouds, ne'er down the west Rode, nor with ruddy beams awoke the morn ; Not Thabor saw such glory, when that mount Beheld the heavens open'd, and the three, The voice there heard, attest the Son of God. Yet mildly bright th' effulgence round him shone, Not terrible, but pleasing to their sight, For whose redemption, affluent he came, Wafted on gentle winds, that round him blew, Freighted with spicy odors, fragrant breath, Celestial bland; more bland than Zephyrus, When softest he o'er Flora's tender charge, Blows dewy sweets, slow tripping o'er the lawn ; Or more thaa Vesperus mild, who Sylva fans, When Philomela gentlest tunes her notes, And Silence wakes with her nocturnal song. Where e'er he pass'd, throughout those arid wastes, Sprang teeming rills, refresh'd with rippling sounds, Or smiling verdure, graced with fruits and flowers, Pleasing to taste, grateful to sight and smell,

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