He 's Gone, And Who

Him That Yon Soars On Golden Wing, Guiding The Fiery-wheelèd Throne, The Cherub Contemplation.

Enjoy Your Dear Wit And Gay Rhetoric, That Hath So Well Been Taught Her Dazzling Fence.

What Better Can We Do Than Prostrate Fall Before Him Reverent, And There Confess Humbly Our Faults, And Pardon Beg With Tears Watering The Ground?

Time Will Run Back And Fetch The Age Of Gold.

I Hate When Vice Can Bolt Her Arguments, And Virtue Has No Tongue To Check Her Pride.