XIV.

Ye blessed souls, grown richer by your spoil,

Whose loss, though great, is cause of greater gains;

Here may your weary spirits rest from toil,

Spending your endless evening that remains,

Amongst those white flocks, and celestial trains,

That feed upon their Shepherd's eyes; and frame

That heavenly music of so wondrous fame,

Psalming aloud the holy honours of his name!

Specimens with Memoirs of the Less-known British Poets, Volume 1 · 第 179 / 326 题