Imatges de pàgina
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This snatching at a sceptre breaks it; he
That broken does ere he can grasp it see;
The poor world seeming like a ball, that lights
Betwixt the hands of powerful opposites:

Which, while they cantonize in their bold pride,
They but an immaterial point divide.

O! whilst for wealthy spoils these fight, let me,
Though poor, enjoy a happy peace with thee!

SHERBURNE.

CHRIST'S NATIVITY.

AWAKE, glad heart! get up, and sing!
It is the birth-day of thy King;

Awake! awake!

The sun doth shake

Light from his locks, and all the way,
Breathing perfumes, doth spice the day.

Awake! awake! hark, how th' wood rings;
Winds whisper, and the busy springs

A concert make !

Awake! awake!

Man is their high-priest, and should rise

To offer up the sacrifice.

I would I were some bird or star,
Flutt'ring in woods, or lifted far

Above this inn

And road of sin!

Then either star or bird should be

Shining, or singing still to thee.

I would I had in my best part

Fit rooms for thee! or that my heart
Were so clean as

Thy manger was!

But I am all filth and obscene;

Yet, if thou wilt, thou canst make clean.

Sweet Jesu! will then; let no more
This leper haunt and soil thy door;
Cure him, ease him,

O release him!

And let once more, by mystic birth,

The Lord of life be born in earth.

VAUGHAN.

DAILY PRAYER.

WHEN first thy eyes unveil, give thy soul leave
To do the like; our bodies but forerun

The spirit's duty: true hearts spread and heave
Unto their God as flowers do to the sun;

Give him thy first thoughts then, so shalt thou keep
Him company all day, and in him sleep.

Yet never sleep the sun up; prayer should
Dawn with the day: there are set awful hours
"Twixt heaven and us; the manna was not good
After sun-rising; for day sullies flowers:
Rise to prevent the sun; sleep doth sins glut,
And heaven's gate opens when the world's is shut.

Walk with thy fellow-creatures: note the hush
And whisperings amongst them. Not a spring

Or leaf but hath his morning hymn; each bush
And oak doth know I AM. Canst thou not sing?
O leave thy cares and follies! go this way,
And thou art sure to prosper all the day.

Serve God before the world; let him not go
Until thou hast a blessing: then resign
The whole unto him, and remember who
Prevailed by wrestling ere the sun did shine:
Pour oil upon the stones, weep for thy sin,
Then journey on, and have an eye to heaven.

Mornings are mysteries: the first, world's youth,
Man's resurrection, and the future's bud,

Shroud in their births; the crown of life, light, truth,
Is styled their star; the stone and hidden food:
Three blessings wait upon them, one of which
Should move—they make us holy, happy, rich.

When the world's up, and every swarm abroad,
Keep well thy temper, mix not with each clay;
Despatch necessities; life hath a load
Which must be carried on, and safely may:
Yet keep those cares without thee; let the heart
Be God's alone, and choose the better part.

VAUGHAN.

THE WORLD.

I SAW Eternity the other night,

Like a great ring of pure and endless light,
All calm as it was bright;

And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years,

Driven by the spheres,

Like a vast shadow moved, in which the world
And all her train were hurled.

The doating lover in his quaintest strain
Did there complain;

Near him his lute, his fancy, and his flights-
Wits so our delights-

With gloves and knots the silly snares of pleasure;
Yet his dear treasure,

All scattered lay, while he his eyes did pour
Upon a flower.

The darksome statesman, hung with weights and woe,
Like a thick midnight-fog, moved there so slow
He did not stay nor go:

Condemning thoughts (like sad eclipses) scowl
Upon his soul;

And clouds of crying witnesses without

Pursued him with one shout.

Yet digged the mole, and, lest his ways be found,
Worked underground,

Where he did clutch his prey-but one did see
That policy;

Churches and altars fed him; perjuries
Were knats and flies;

It rained about him blood and tears, but he
Drank them as free.

The fearful miser on a heap of rust

Sate pining all his life there-did scarce trust
His own hands with the dust;

Yet would not place one piece above, but lives
In fear of thieves.

Thousands there were as trantic as himself,

And hugged each one his pelf:

The downright epicure placed heaven in sense,
And scorned pretence;

While others, slipped into a wide excess,
Said little less:

The weaker sort, slight trivial wares enslave,
Who think them brave;

And poor despised truth sat counting by
Their victory.

Yet some, who all this while did weep and sing,
And sing and weep, soared up into the ring;
But most would use no wing.

O fools! (said I) thus to prefer dark night
Before true light;

To live in grots and caves, and hate the day
Because it shows the way-

The way which from this dead and dark abode
Leads up to God;

A way where you might tread the sun, and be
More bright than he.

But as I did their madness so discuss,

One whispered thus:

"This ring the Bridegroom did for none provide

But for his bride."

VAUGHAN.

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