Francis Quarles.

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Ebs have their Flouds.acd Autumns have their Spriigs^
All States have changes hurried with the fvcings
Of Chance and Time, fcili riding to and fro ;
Terrefcrial bodies, and celeft al too.
How often have I vainly grop'd about,
With length'ned arms to find a pa'Jage out,
That 1 might catch thofe beams mine eye defires.
And bathe my foul in thofe celeftial fires ?
Like as the haggard, doifcered in her mew,
Tofcowrher downy robrs, and to renew


130 Emhlemes. Book

Her broken flag*, preparing t'overlook

The tim'rous Mallard at the fliding brook,

Jets oft from perch to perch ; from frock to ground,

A-rom ground to window, thus furveying round

Her Dove befeather'd Prifon , till at length

CCilling her noble birth to mind, and ftrength

Whereto her wing was born) her ragged beak

Nipps off her jangling jeffss, ftrives to break

Her gingling fetters, and begins to bate

At ev'ry glimpfe, and darts at ev'ry grate :

Ev'n fo my weary foul, that long has bin

An Inmate in this Tenement of fin,

Lock*d up by cloud-brow'd Error, which invites

My cloifc'red thoughts to feed on black delights.

Now fcorns her fliadows, and begins to dart

Her wing'd defires at thee, that only art

The Sun fhe feeks, whofe riflng beams can fright

Thefe duskie-clouds that make fo dark a night ;

Shine forth great Glory, fhine ; that I may fee

Both how to loath my felf, and honour Thee :

But if my weaknefs force thee to deny

Thy fiames.yct lend the twilightef thine eye:

If I mufc want thofe Beams ; I wifli, yet grant.

That I, at leaft, way wifh thofe Beams, I want.


Book 3. Emhlemes. 131

S. AUGUST. Soliloqu. ap. 33.

There vojs aj^reat dirh cToud of vinity before mhs eyes ^
fo that I could not fee the Sun of ^ufii.e C? the Light of
Truth : / heirig the fon of dirkneU, roa hvcl'jsi in dirk-
nefs ; / loved my darknefst beaufe 1 knew not ihj light : /
wii blind, ani Icved my blindneff^ and did VJi*k from dirk*
nefs to dartnefs I But Lord thou art my God, nbo tafl led me
from dzrlnefs andthe fhiioro cf duxh\ hifl cilUdme into
this glorious light y and bMdy J fee.

My foul, cbear up ; what If the night be long,
Heav'n findi an ear, when finncrs find a tongue •
Thy tears are morning (howrs : Heav'n bids me fay.
When Feter'a cock begins to crow , 'tis day.



Book 3,


^:>inns are net hilf^anL tkee.Tf:6p. i

Book 3^ Emhkmesi 133


P S A L 69. 3;

Lordy thou knovoefl my foolijhnefs , and my
fins are not hid from thee,

SEcfc thou this fulfom Ideot ? in what me^urc
He fcems tranfported with the antick pieafure
Of childiih baubles J' Canft thou but admire
The empty fuhiefs of his vain defire ?
Canfc thou conceive fuch poor delights, as thefe
Can fin tb' infatiate foul of man, or pleafe
The fond af^^e^ of his deluded eye ?
Reader, fach very fools are thou and I :
Falfc pufFs of honour ; the deceitful ftreams
Of wealth ; the idle, vain and empty dreams
Of pieafure, are our traffick, and enfnare
Our fouls, the threefold fubjc£t of our care ;
We toil for trafh, we barter folid joys
For aiery trifles, fell our Heav'n for toys :
We knatch at barly grains, whilft pearls ftand by
Pcfpis'd ; fuch very fools are thou and I.
Aim'ft thou at honour ? Does not thTdeot (hake it
In his left hand ? Fond man, fcep forth and take it :
Or wouldTc thou wealth ? fee now the fool prefcnts thee
With a full basket, if fuch wealth contents thee :
WouldTc thou take pieafure ? if the fool unftride
His prancing StaIlion» thou maift up and ride :
Fond man, fuch is the pieafure, wealth, and honour
The earth affords fuch fools, as dote upon her;
Such is the game whereat earth*s Ideots flie j
Such Ideots, ah / fuch f?oU are fhgu and I-


134 Emllemes. Book .

Had rebel man's fool-hard inefs extended

No farther than himfelf, and there had ended.

It had been jafc ; but thus cnrag'd to fly

Upon the eternal eyes of Majefty,

And drag the Son of Glory from, the breafc

Of his indulgent Father *, to arreft

His great and facred Perfon : in difgrace

To fpi: and fpaul upon his Sun- bright- face ;

To taunt him with bafe terms ; and being bound

To fcourge his fofc, his trembling fides ; to wound

His head with thorns ; his heart with human fears ;

His hands with nails, and his pale flank with fpears :

And then to paddle ia the purer fcreara

Of his fpilc blood, is more, than moft extreme :

Great builder of Mankind, canft thou propound

All this to thy bright eyes, and not co f-iund

Thy handv work ? O I Canft thou choofe but fee,

That mac'fc t\\z eye ? Can ought be hid from thee ?

Thou feeft our perfons, Lord, and not our guilt ;

Tboa feefc not, what thou maift, but what thou wilt :

The hand that formed us iscnforc*d to be

A Screen fct up betwixt thy work and thee:

JLook, look upon that Hand, and thou (halt fple

An open wound, a through. fare for thine eye;

Or if that wound be dos'd, that paffage be

Deny'd between thy gracious eyes and me,

Yet view the fear ; that fear will countermand

Tf y wrath : O read my fortune in thy hand.

a C H R Y s

Book 3. Emlkmes, 1 35

?. C H R Y S. Horn. 4. Joan.

Fools, feem to ab^nd in weM, when they wmt all things ;
they feem to enpy kappine's, token indeed they are only mod
miferable ; aeither do th;y under ft 2nd tkit ttey are deluded
by their fjincy^ till^hey be delivered from their fol^y*

S. GREG. inMor.

By fo mu:h the more are we iawirdly fccJ'fJh^ by how mi^ch
we ftrive to f^a^oHimrdly wij.

EPIG. 2.

Rebellious fool, uhat has thy felly done ?
Controli'd thy Gcd, and crucifi'd his Son ?
How Aveetly has the Lord of life deceiv'd thee ? (thee?
1 hou IhcddTc his blcod, and that Q-^ed b'ood ha$ fav*d


Emhlemes. Book 3


Jiat/e. mercy crimt O L^rdfirJamnfcake-
oXt ■ kcaU iii£jrri.ty hones in,: vnxell'f: 6'2. .

Book 3. Emhlemcs. 137



Have mercy Lord, upon fue, fir lam iveak ;
Lor J, heal we, for my hones are vexed.

Soul* ^•[u*.

foul A H, Son of DiviJ, help : fef. What finfnl eric
jCX Implores the Son David ? SohI, It is I.

fif. Who art thou ? Jom/. Oh, a deeply *'ouaded breaft
rhat*s heavy laden and would fain have reft.

^ef. 1 have no fcraps, and dogs muft not be fed
Like houfhold chiidfen, with the childrens bread*

Soul. True. Lord ; yet tolerate a huagry whelp
To lick their crumbs: O Son of David^ help.

^f/. Poor Soul, what dW^i thou f SouU O I burn, I fry,
{ cannot reft, I know not where to fly
To find Tome eafe; I turn'd my blubber'd f^ce
-rom man to man ^ I roll from place to place
r avoid my tortures, to obtain relief, '

3ut ftillam dogg'd and hunted with my grief:
Vly mid-night tormenti call the fluggifh -light
\nd when the morning's come, they woo the night.

^ef. Surcsafe thy te3rs,and fpeak thy free defires (fires

Jo. Quench, quench my flames, and fwage thofe fcorching

^eU Canft thou bslieve, my hand can core thy grief?

Soul. Lord, I believe ; Lord, help my unbelief.

^//■, Hold forth thine arm and let my fingers try
rhypulfe-, where chitfiy doth thy torment lie;

SouU From head to foot ; it reigns in ev'ry part,
3ut plays the fclflaw'd tyrant in ray heart.

138 Emhlemes. Book 3,

^ef. Canft thou digeft ? Canft relifh wholfom food ?
How ftands the taft ? SouU To nothing that is good :
AH fiDfal tralh, and earths unfav'ry ftufF
1 can digeft, and relifh well enough.

^efwt» Is not thy blood as cold as hot, by turns ?

Soul. Cold to what's good ; to what is bad ic burns !

^efm. How old's thy grief? SouL I took it at the fall
With eating fruit, fef, 'Tis Epidemical :
Thy blood's infe£led, and th* infeftion (prung
From a bad liver: 'Tis a feavcr ftrong
And full of death, unlefs, with prefent fpeed,
A vain be opened, thou muft die, or bleed.

Soul. O I cm faint and f^ent .- that launce that (hall
Let forth my blood, lets forth my life withal :
My foul wants cordials, and has greater need
Of [jlood, then CbeiBg fpent fo tar) to bleed :
I faint already, if I bleed, I dy.

Spff/. * ris either thou muft bleed, fick foul or I *
My blood's a cordial. He that fucks my veins,
Shan clcanfe his own, and conquer greater pains
Then thefe ; cheat up ; this precious blood of mine
Shall cure thy grief ; my heart fhall bleed for thine
Believe and view me with a faith'ul eye.
Thy fvml (hall neither languifb, bleed nor dk.


Book 3' Emlkmes. 139

$. AUGUST, lib. 10. Confefs.

Zori, hz merciful unto rds : Abmsi Behold^ 1 hide not mf
tomnds : Thou Art i Phficim^ And I dmfick ; Thou art wer-
cifiUt Atti I am miferablc,

S. GREG, in PaftoraU

Wifdom, with hew fweet an art doth thy wine and 0)t
refiort health to my heaUthfs foul \ Hew pcwer fully merciful ,
how mercifully powerful an thou ! Pnwerfulfor tm^ merci"
ful te mi I

EPIG. 3a
Canft thou be fick, and fuch a Doi^or by ?
Thott canft not live, unlefs thy DoQor dye !
Strange kind of grief, that tinis do mcd'cinc good
To fwagther pains, but the Phyficians blood !

K 2



Bbok i.


Zack. upon, mjf a/fhctwn.and tnifertf
and foraiye nte ailmt/ Stnns

Book 3I Emllemei. 141


PSAL. 7.^. i8.

Look upon my afflfliton and my pain ] and
forgive all my fins.

Both work and flrokcs ? Both, lafh and labour too ?
What more could Edom, or proud Albur do ?
Stripes, after Stripes ; aad blows fiicceeding blows ?
Lord, has thy fcourgc no mecry, and ray woes.
No end ? My paias no cafe J* No inter miffion ?
Is this the ftate ? Is this the fad coHdition
Of thofe that truft thee ? Will thy goodnefs pleafe
T' allow no other favouis? None but thefe ?
Will not the Rhet'i ick cf my torments move ?
Are thefe the fymptomes, thefe the figns of love ?
Is'c not enough, enough that I fulfil
Thy toyifome task of thy laborious will?
May not this labour expiate and purge
My fia without the addition of a fcourge ?
Look on my cloudy brow, how faft it reini
Sad (bowers of fweat, the fruits of fruitlefs pains :
Behold thefe ridges ; fee what purple furrows
Thy plow has made ; O think upon thofe forrow^. , ,
That OBce were thme ; wilt thou not be woo*d
To mercy by the charms of fweat and blood ?
Canftthou forget that drowlic mount, wherein
Thy dun Difciples fleep, was not my fin
There punifh*d in my foul ? did riOt this brow
Then fweat in thine ? Were not thofe drops enow ?
Remember Golgotha . where that fpringtidc
O* rcflow'd thy fovcfaii; Sacramental fide :

K 3 There

i^i Em Hemes. Book 3,

There was no fia, there was no guilt in Thee,

That causM thofe pains ; thou fweat'ft.thou bledft for mc.

Was there not blood enough, when one (mall drop

Had poVr to ranfome thoufand worlds, and flop

Thcmouihof Juftice? Lord, I bled before

In thy deep wounds ; can Juftice challenge more ?

Or doft thou vainly labour to hedge in

Thy loffesfrom my fides ? My blooJ is thin.

And thy free bounty fcorns fuch eafie thrift ;

No, DO, thy blood came not as love but gift.

But muft I ever grind ? And mufc I earn

Nothing but fcripei ? O wilt thou difaltern

The reft thou gavTc ? Hafi thou perus'd the curfe

Thou laidTton Adam*s fall, and made it worfc?

Canft thou repent of mercy ? Heav'a thought good

Left man fhould feed in fweat ; not work in blood :

Why doft thou wound th»already wounded brcalt ?

Ah me ! my life is but a pain at beft :

I am but dying duft : my day'j a fpan ;

What pleafure tak'ft thou in the blood of man ?

Spare, fpare thy fcourge, and be not fo auftere ?

Send fewer ftroaks, or lend more ftrcngth to bear*


Book 3. Emhlemes. 143

S. BERN. Horn. Si. in Cant.

Mi\tribU mm ! whJhiU deliver me from the reproich of
this fhnne fid bouiigc ? 1 amt, mi[crdbk man but a free nin ;
free, beciuie a mjtn • rnifersble, beaufe a fcrvint : In regiri
of my bojtdjge, miienbie^ in rej^irdof mytvilJ, inexcufible :
For my. will, that wis free, bsjldved it felf to fin, ky ajfinting
10 fin ; for be tbit committetb fin, is tbefcrviiit to fin.

EPIG. 4.

Tax not thy God : Thine own default« did urge
This two-fold punifhment *, the mill, the fcourgc.
Thy fin'i the author of thy fcif tormenting :
Thou grindTt for rmniPg; rcourg.*d for not rep^Dtiog.

K 4



Book 3.


hajfl maJc rn^ aj th^CLy ^nHiti/u^rv

'V/<v/ ft?.* //tec du^l .^/foJtr^ : Tc^ j^ .;

Book 3. Emhlemes. 145:

JOB 10.9;

Rememher Ihefeecb theCy that thou haft made
me as the clay, and wilt thou Iring me to
duft again ?

THas from the bofom of the new tn^ade earth ^
Poor man was delv'J, and had his unborn birth ;
The fame the fcuff, the fclf fame hand doth tr«m
The plant that fades, the beaft that dies, and htm :
One was their fire, one was their common mother.
Plants are his fifters, and the beaft bis brocher.
The elder too 5 beafcs draw the fclf-farae breath.
Wax old alike, and die the felf-fame death :
Plants grow as he, with fairer robes arraiM ;
Alike they flourifh, and alike they fade :
The beaft in fenfc exceeds him, and ingrowth.
The thrce-ag'd Oak doth thrice exceed them both :
Why lookTt thou then fo big, thou little fpaa
Of earth ^ what art thou more in being m^n ?
I, but thy great Creator did infpire
My chofcn earth, with thy diviner fire
Of rcafongaveme judgment and a will:
That, to know good ; t^s, to choofe good from ill :
He puts the reigns of po>,'rin my free hand.
And jarifdidlon over Sea and Land,
He gave me art to lengthen oat my fpan
Of life, and made me all, in being man :
I. but thy palfion has committed treafon
Againft the facred psrfon of thy reafon :
Thy judgment is corrupt, pervcrfe thy wjfl ;
That kno^s no good, and this makes choice of ill:


14^, Emhlemes, Book ^i

The'grcater height fends down the deeper fill •
And good dedin'd turns bad, turns worftof all.
Say then, proud inch of living earth, what can
Thy grcatnefs claim the more in being man ?
O but my foul tranfcends the pitch of nature,
Born up by th' Image of her high Creator 3
Out braves the life of reafon, and beats d«wn
Her waxea wings, kicks off her brazen crown.
My heart's a living Temple t'cntertaia
The King of Glory, and his glorirus train ;
How can I mend my title then ? where can
Ambition find a higher ftile than man ?
Ah, but that Image is defac'd and foil*d ;
Her Temple's rsz'J, her Altars all defii'd ;
Her Veffels are polluted and diflain'd
With cloathed luft, her ornaments prophan'd ;
Her oyl-forfaken lamp?, and hallow 'd ta pours
Put out ; her iccsofc breaths unfa?*fy vapours :
Why fwcUTt thou then fo big, thou little fpan
Of earth ? what art thou more in being man ?
Eternal Potter, vvhofe bleft hards did lay
My courfe foundation from a fod of clay,
Thoo know'ft my {lender veffers apt to leak;
Thou kcowYc ray brittle temper's prone to break ;
Are my bones brszil, or my flcfi? of oak !
O, mend what thou haft made, what I have broke :
Look, look with gentle eyes, and in thy day
Of vengeance, Lord, renicmbcr I am clay.


Book 3. Emlkmes, 147

S. AUGUST. Soliloq. 32.

ShiU 1 ash, roho mide me ? It vns tbou tht rnideft mCy
toitbout whom nothing wis nude : Tbou art my miier, and I
tbf vsori, I tbink thee^ my Lord God. , by robom 1 Jive, and by
robom all tbings fubfijl , becaufe thou rnjJcfi me : / tbank
tbee^ my Potter^ becjufe tty bandi bdve nude ms^ becju[e
tby bands bive forvisd me;

EPIG. ^,
Why fWcn'ft thoi>, man, puft up with fame and purfe ?
Thart better earth, but born to dig the worfe:
Thou cam ft from earth, to earth thou muft return,
And art but earth caft from the womb to ih'nrn.


Book i^


(^kat sfudlS'do vnto thee.O Acfi;

preserver of men why had thcni set

'^ l^-ojAmarkr ofattulihee M 7^^

Book 3. Emhlemes: 149


J O B. 7. 20.

/ have finned : What jhall I^o unto thee^
thou preferver of Men >^tVhy dofl thou
Jet me as a mark againjl thee >

LOrd, I have done; and Lord, I have miTdonc;
' Fis foHy to conteft, to itrive with one
That te too flroBg ; 'ci$ folly to affail
Or prove an arm, that wiD, that muft prevail.
I've donj, IVe docc ; thefe trembling hands Ijave throvva
Their daring weapons down : The day's thine own ;
Forbear to mike where thou haft won the field.
The palm, the palm is thine : I yield, I yield.
Thefe treach'rous hands that were fo vainly bold
To try a thrivelefs combat, and to hold
Self-wounding weapomup, are now extended
For menry from thy hand ; that knee that bended
Upon her gnardisfs guard deth now repent
Upon his naked floor ; See both are bent.
And fue for pity : O my ra^ed wound
Is deep and defp'rate, it isdrench'd and drown'd
In blood and briny tears : It doth begin
To tiink without, and putrific within.
Let that viftoricus hand that now appears
Juft in my blood, prove gracious to my tears :
Thou great preferver of prefumptuous man.
What iliall I do ? what fatisfaction can
Poor duft and afhes make ? O if that blood
That yet remains uafhed, were half as good
As blood of oxen ; if my death might be
An offering to attone my God and me.

150 Emllemes. Book 3,

i would difdain injurious life, and ftand
A fuiter to be wounded from thy hand.
But may thy wrongs be msafnr'd by the fpan
Of life? or balanc'd with the blood of man?
No, no, eternal fin expefts for guerdon.
Eternal penance, or eternal pardon :
lay down thy weapons, turn thy wrath away.
And' pardon him that hath no price to pay ;
Enlarge that foul, which bafe prefumption binds ;
Thy Juftice cannot loofe what mercy finds :

ihou that wilt not bruife the broken reed,
Rub not my fores, nor prick the wounds that bleed,
lord, if the peevifh infant fights and flies,

With unpar*d weapons, at his mothers eyes.

Her frowns ^half mix'd with fmilcs) may chance to (hew

An angry Jove-trick on his arm, or fo ;

Where if the Babe but make a lip and cry.

Her heart begins to melt, aod by and by

She cbaks his dewy- cheeks; her babe fhe blifles,

And choaks her language with a thoufand kifles ;

1 am that ch!Id ; Lo, here I proftrate lye.
Pleading for mercy •, I repent and cry
P>r gracious pardon : let thy gentle ears

IfeaB that in words, what mothers judge in tears s
See not my fraildes, Lord, but through my fear.
And look on evVy trefpafs through a tear:
Then calm thy anger, and appear more mild 5
ll«tmcniber, th*art a Father, I a child.


Book 3. Emhkmes. iji

S. BERN. Ser. 21, in Cant.

MifenbU min ! WboJhiU dtUver me from tie reproach of
thii Jhameful bondage ? Jama miferabk minjbiit a free mm ;
Free^ becaufe like to God ; mifenble, braufc agiinjl C$i :
keeper af mankind, tohy baft thou fet me as a mark agdinfi
thee f Thou baft jet me, becaufe thou baft not hindred mex hit
juft that thy enemy jhould be mj enemy, and thit be who repug-
neth thee, Jhould refugn me \ I xoho am jgaM tUe, am a*

E P I G. 6.

Butfofm'd, 3nd fight? But born, and then rebel ?
How fmall a blaft win make a bubble fwell ?
But dare the floor affront the hand 'that laid it ?
So apt ii duft to fly in s fece that made it.


Emhlemes. Book 3.


TV/iereforc kiAzo^i:, tlwa thffacc, zr
^■Aa^t mcc tor thine Znzmir Job ■ jz x -/

Book 3^ Emilemesl tJj;j


JOB 13. 24.

Wherefore hideB thou my face ^ andhoUefi
me for thine enemy ?

WHy doft thou (hade thy lovely face ? O why
Does that ecUpfing hand fo long, deny
The Sun-fhine of my ibul-enliVing eye i

Without that Lizht, what light remains in me ?
Thou art my Lifs^ my Wiy^ my Ligkt^ in Thee
I live, I move, and by thy beams I fee:

Thou art my Life, If thou but turn aw^ay,
My life's a thoufand deaths ! Thou art my Wjiy t
Without thee, Lord, I travel not, but ftray.^

My Light thou art ; without thy glorious fight,
Mine eyes are darkned with perpetual night.
My God, thou art my Wny^ my Life, my Ligbt4

Thou art my Wdj ; I wander, if thou flie :
Thou art my Light ; if hid how blind am I ^
Thou art my Life ; if thou withdraw, I die.

Mine eyes are blind and dark 5 I cannot fee ;
To whom or whither (hould my darknefs flee.
But to the Light ? And who's that Light but Thee ?

My path is loft ; my wandring fteps do ftray 5
I cannot fafely go, nor fafely ftay ; - - '

Whom (hould I feck, but Thee, my ?Atb, my Wiy ?

1^4 Emhlemes. Book 3,

O, I am dead : To whom flhall I, poor I,
Repair ? To whom (hall my fad alhes fly
But Z//C ? And where is Lift but ia thy eye ?

And yet thou turn'il away thy face, and flicft me 5
And yet I fue for grace, and thou dcny'ft me ;
^peak artthcu angry^ Lord.or ociy try»it me ?

UQskreen thofc heav'nly lamps, or tell me why

Thoa itad'ft thy fsce ? perhaps thoa thiak'ft norcye
Can view thofe flames at:d not drop down and die.

if that be aH, Oiine forth and draw thee nighcr ;
Let me behold and die , for my defirc
Is Fhxnix like to perifh in that fire.

Death cocquei'J Lj^'rxe was redeem *J by thee;
If I am dead. Lord, fet deaths priibncr free;
Am I more foent, or ftink I wwrs than he ?

If my pufc life be out, give leave to tine

My fhamelefsfnuiF at that bright Limp of thine °

O whaL'a thy L-'gbt^ the kfs for lightning mine ?

If I have loft my P^h, Great Shepherd, fay,
iihaU I ftiH wander in a doubtful way ?
Lord, Ihali a Lamb of JjVds (heep-fold ftray ?

Thcu art my Pilgrims Pith, the blind man»i Eye-, '
The dead man's i^f^ ; on thee my hopes rely ;
If thou remove, i err; I grope; I die.

Difclofe thy Sun beams ; clofe thy wings, and ftay ;
See, fre how lam blind, and dead, and ftray,
O rhou that arc m y Lighf, my Life, rny Wuj.

S. A U G.

Book 3. Emllemes. lyj"

S. AUGUST* Solilcq. cap. i.

n^hyioJithouhiJsthj face? £/.tppiJy thou mli fay^ none
can fee thy face and live : Ah Lord^ let me dk^ that I TTiayfee
thee, let mef:e tbee.rhat 1 miy He \ I vfouli not live, hut die ;
that Imiy [ezCkri-l, 1 iefire death 'i that I m&j live toith

ANSELM. Med. cap. 5,

exeeEent hhiiag^ which is become my perfeSion ! My God
tcGU hidiji thy treafure^jo hwdle my difire : Tkou hiiefl tby
pearl, so itifiamt the feeler ; tkoudelayM to give, that thou
miifl teach me fa imjiorj^une ; ftetnfi not to beir^ to make me

EPIG. 7.

if heav'ns all quickning Eyes voucbfafeto fhin!
Upon our fouls, we flight ; if not, wewhiac;
Our Eqaino^ial hearts can never lie
Secure, bsneatb the Tropick; of that eye ?


Book 3,


Mu/' lUad were n-.jtct-'s, and

Book 3^ Emlkmesl x$7


J E R. 9. I.

that my head were waters, and mine eyes
a fountain of tears, that I may weep day
and night*

f^ That mine eyes were fprings, and coald transform

\J Their drops £0 fe^s ? My fighs into a ftorm

Of Zeal, and facred violence, wherein

This lab'rirg veff^l laden with her fin,

Might fuffer fudden fhipwack, and befpilt

Upon that Ruck, where my drench'dfoul may fit

OrcvvhelmM with. plenteous paffion ; O and there

Drop, Drop, into an everlaft lug tear !

Ah me ! Thatev*ry flidiog vein that wanders

Through this vaft Ifle, did work her wild Meanders

In brackifh tears inftead ot blood, and fwell

This flelh with holy Dropfies, from whofe WeD,

Made warm with iighs, may funie my wafting breath

Whilft I diffolvc in ftreams, and reek to death !

Thefe narrow fluces of mydribling eyes

Are much too ftreigbt for thofe quick fprings that rife

And hourly fill my Temples to the top ;

I cannot fhed fc ev'ry fin a drop ?

Great builder of mankind, why haft thou fent.

Such fwelliwg floods, and made Co fmall a vent ?

O that this nefh hai been compos'd of fnow,

Inftead of eaisb ; and bones of ice, that fo,

L 3 Feeling

l§% Emhlemes. Book 3 .

Reling the fervor of my fia ; and loathing

The fire I feel, I mighc be thaw'd to nothing!

O thou that didft, with hopeful joy, entomb

Me thrice three Moons in thy laborious womb.

And then with joyful pain, bronght'tl forth a Son,

What worth thy labour has thy labour done ?

What was there ? Ah ! What was there in my birth

That tould deferve tn^ eaficft fmile of mir th ?

A man was born : Alas, and what's a man f

A rcutde Ful's of duft, a nieafur'd (pan

Of flitting time; afurnilh'd Pack, whofe wares

'Arelu»]en griefs, and foul tormenting Cares :

A vale of t«ars, avcffel tnnn'd with breath,

.By fick-r-'^ hroacbf fo be drawn out by death r

A hapl i:; he'p ••=■? thing ; that, born does cry

Tpfet^t? that feeds 10 live, that lives to die.

Grcas God and Man, whofe eye, ipentdropsfo often

For me that cannoE weep enough ; O foftcn

Thcfe marble braips, avidftrike this fiiuty rockj

Or, if the mufick of thy Pmrs Cock

Will more prevail, fiU, fill my hearkmng e^rs

With that fweet found, that I may melt in tears I

I cannot weep until thou broach mice eye ;

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