THE LADY VENETIA DIGBY; HER RELATION TO THE SAINTS by BEN JONSON

'Twere time that I died too, now she is dead
Who was my Muse, and life of all I said.

Dare I profane, so irreligious be,
To greet or grieve her soft euthanasy!
So sweetly taken to the court of bliss,
As spirits had stolen her spirit in a kiss,
From off her pillow and deluded bed:
And left her lovely body unthought dead. . . . .

Saints, Martyrs, Prophets, with those Hierarchies
Arch-Angels, Principalities,
The Dominations, Virtues, and the Powers,
The Thrones, the Cherubs, and Seraphic bowers,
That, planted round, there sing before the Lamb
A new song to His praise, and great I AM:
And she doth know, out of the shade of death,
What 'tis to enjoy an everlasting breath!
To have her captived spirit freed from flesh,
And, on her innocence, a garment fresh
And white as that put on: and in her hand
With bough of palm, a crowned victress stand. . . .

There all the happy souls that ever were,
Shall meet with gladness in one theatre:
And each shall know there one another's face,
By beatific virtue of the place.
There shall the brother with the sister walk,
And sons and daughters with their parents talk:
But all of God. They still shall have to say,
But make him All in All their Theme that day:
That happy day that never shall see night,
Where He will be all beauty to the sight:
Wine or delicious fruits unto the taste:
A music in the ears will ever last:
Unto the scent a spicery or balm:
And to the touch a flower like soft as palm.
He will all glory, all perfection be,
God in the Union and the Trinity!
That holy, great, and glorious mystery,
Will there revealed be in majesty!
By light and comfort of Spiritual grace!
The vision of Our Saviour, face to face. . . .

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