See! what an undisturbed teare
She weepes for her last sleepe;
But, viewing her, straight wak'd a Star,
She weepes that she did weepe.
Griefe ne're before did tyranize
On th' honour of that brow,
And at the wheeles of her brave eyes
Was captive led til now.
Thus, for a saints apostacy
The unimagin'd woes
And sorrowes of the Hierarchy
None but an angel knowes.
Thus, for lost soules recovery
The clapping of all wings
And triumphs of this victory
None but an angel sings.
So none but she knows to bemone
This equal virgins fate,
None but LUCASTA can her crowne
Of glory celebrate.
Then dart on me (CHAST LIGHT)[28.2] one ray,
By which I may discry
Thy joy cleare through this cloudy day
To dresse my sorrow by.