JOHN OLDHAM

THY soul within such silent pomp did keep, As if humanity were lull’d asleep; So gentle was thy pilgrimage beneath, Time’s unheard feet scarce make less noise, Or the soft journey which a planet goes: Life seem’d all calm as its last breath. A still tranquillity so hush’d thy breast, As if some Halcyon were its guest, And there had built her nest; It hardly now enjoys a greater rest.