Began to spread and to expatiate there : Which at a board, while many drank bare wine, But when I thought to sleep out all these faults, I found that some had stuff'd the bed with thoughts, 102. MAN'S MEDLEY. HEARK, how the birds do sing, All creatures have their joy, and man hath his. Man's joy and pleasure Rather hereafter, then in present, is. To this life things of sense Make their pretence : In th' other Angels have a right by birth: Man ties them both alone, And makes them one, With th' one hand touching heav'n, with th' other In soul he mounts and flies, In flesh he dies. [earth. He wears a stuffe whose thread is course and round, But trimm'd with curious lace, And should take place After the trimming, not the stuffe and ground. Not, that he may not here Taste of the cheer: But as birds drink, and straight lift up their head; So must he sip and think Of better drink He may attain to, after he is dead. But as his joyes are double, He hath two winters, other things but one: And he of all things fears two deaths alone. Yet ev❜n the greatest griefs Could he but take them right, and in their wayes. My sighs and tears as busy were above; And much affect thee, as tempestuous times Starres have their storms, ev'n in a high degree, A throbbing conscience spurred by remorse Hath a strange force: It quits the earth, and mounting more and more, There it stands knocking, to thy musick's wrong, And drowns the song. Glorie and honour are set by till it An answer get. Poets have wrong'd poore storms: such dayes are best; They purge the aire without, within the breast. I BLESSE thee, Lord, because I GROW What open force, or hidden CHARM ARM? Inclose me still for fear I START. When thou dost greater judgements SPARE, Such sharpnes shows the sweetest FREND: 105. THE METHOD. POORE heart, lament, For since thy God refuseth still, There is some rub, some discontent, Thy Father could Quickly effect, what thou dost move; Go search this thing. Tumble thy breast and turn thy book: What do I see Written above there? Yesterday And should God's eare To such indifferents chained be, But stay! what's there? Yet I went on. And should God's care, Which needs not man, be ty'd to those Then once more pray: Down with thy knees, up with thy voice: Glad heart rejoyce. As men, for fear the starres should sleep and nod, And trip at night, have spheres supplied; |