Poem by William Drummond

For the Baptist

THE last and greatest herald of heaven's king,
Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild,
Among that savage brood the woods forth bring,
Which he than man more harmless found and mild;
His food was locusts and what young doth spring,
With honey that from virgin hives distill'd;
Parch'd body, hollow eyes, some uncouth thing
Made him appear, long since from earth exil'd.

There burst he forth: "All ye whose hopes rely
On God, with me amidst these deserts mourn,
Repent, repent, and from old errors turn."
Who listen'd to his voice? obey'd his cry?
    Only the echoes which he made relent, 
    Rung from their marble caves, "Repent, repent.

1. Now While the Night Her Sable Veil Hath Spread
2. Madrigal
3. How That Vast Heaven Intitled First Is Roll'd
4. Ora
5. Dear Eye, Which Deign'st on This Sad Monument

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