Original - Duke Divinity School

Ere the Foundation of the Earth was laid,
Ere brighter Firmament was made;
Ere Matter, Time, or Place, was known,
Thou, Monarch Darkness, sway’dst these spacious Realms alone.
But, now the Moon (though gay with borrow’d Light)
Invades thy scanty Lot of Night,
By Rebel Subjects Thou ’rt betray’d,
The anarchy of Stars depose their Monarch Shade.
Yet fading Light its Empire must resign,
And Nature’s Power submit to Thine:
A general Ruin shall erect Thy Throne,
Thy Kingdom shall confirm, for evermore Thy own.
On Mrs Arabella Hunt singing 204
by Mr Congreve
Let all be husht, each softest Motion cease,
Be ev’ry loud tumultuous thought at peace,
And ev’ry ruder Gasp of breath
Be calm, as in the arms of Death.
And Thou most fickle, most uneasie Part,
Thou restless Wanderer, my Heart,
Be still; Gently, ah gently, leave,
Thou busy, idle thing, to heave.
Stir not a pulse; and let my Blood,
That turbulent, unruly Flood,
Be softly staid:
Let me be all, but my Attention, dead. […]
For I would hear her Voice, and try
If it be possible to die.
Come all ye love-sick Maids and wounded Swains,
And listen to her healing Strains.
A wond’rous Balm, between her Lips she wears,
204 William Congreve, “On Mrs. Arabella Hunt Singing: a Pendaric Ode,” in Dryden, ed., Miscellany,
3:65–68 (Wesley includes only the first two of five stanzas).
129