take,
And that thy wither'd body now forsake!
Better thyself by this thy change! This said
He shakes his locks, and from his golden head
Shoots one bright beam, which smites with vital fire
The willing bird; to burn is his desire,
That he may live again: he's proud in death,
And goes in haste to gain a better breath.
The spicy heap fir'd with celestial rays
Doth burn the aged Ph[oe]nix, when straight stays
The chariot of th' amazed moon; the pole
Resists the wheeling swift orbs, and the whole
Fabric of Nature at a stand remains,
Till the old bird a new young being gains.
All stop and charge the faithful flames, that they
Suffer not Nature's glory to decay.
By this time, life which in the ashes lurks
Hath fram'd the heart, and taught new blood new works;
The whole heap stirs, and ev'ry part assumes
Due vigour; th' embers too are turn'd to plumes;
The parent in the issue now revives,
But young and brisk; the bounds of both these lives,
With very little space between the same,
Were parted only by the middle flame.
To Nilus straight he goes to consecrate
His parent's ghost; his mind is to translate
His dust to Egypt. Now he hastes away
Into a distant land, and doth convey
The ashes in a turf. Birds do attend
His journey without number, and defend
His pious flight, like to a guard; the sky
Is clouded with the army, as they fly.
Nor is there one of all those thousands dares
Affront his leader: they with solemn cares
Attend the progress of their youthful king;
Not the rude hawk, nor th' eagle that doth bring
Arms up to Jove, fight now, lest they displease;
The miracle enacts a common peace.
So doth the Parthian lead from Tigris' side
His barbarous troops, full of a lavish pride
In pearls and habit; he adorns his head
With royal tires: his steed with gold is led;
His robes, for which the scarlet fish is sought,
With rare Assyrian needle-work are wrought;
And proudly reigning o'er his rascal bands,
He raves and triumphs in his large commands.
A city of Egypt, famous in all lands
For rites, adores the sun; his temple stands
There on a hundred pillars by account,
Digg'd from the quarries of the Theban mount.
Here, as the custom did require--they say--
His happy parent's dust down he doth lay;
Then to the i