St. Peter's Complaint reminds one of Lucrece also in the minuteness of its narration, and in the unfailing abundance of thought and fancy with which every detail is treated. It is undoubtedly the work of a mind of no ordinary copiousness and force, often embarrassed by its own riches, and so expending them with a prodigal carelessness. Thus Southwell's defects spring not from poverty, but from imperfectly managed wealth; or, to use a different image, the flowers are overcrowded in his garden, and the blaze of colour is excessive. Still, flowers they are. Like many another Elizabethan, he was wanting in art; his genius ran riot. VOL. I. 11 JOHN W. HALES. TIMES GO BY TURNS. The lopped tree in time may grow again; The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow, She draws her favours to the lowest ebb; Her time hath equal times to come and go, Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web; Not always fall of leaf nor ever spring, A chance may win that by mischance was lost; LOSS IN DELAY. Shun delays, they breed remorse; Take thy time while time is lent thee; Creeping snails have weakest force, Fly their fault lest thou repent thee. Hoist up sail while gale doth last, Tide and wind stay no man's pleasure; Seek not time when time is past, Sober speed is wisdom's leisure. Take thy hold on his forehead; Often sought, scarce ever chancing. Crush the serpent in the head, Break ill eggs ere they be hatch'd; Kill bad chickens in the tread, Fledged, they hardly can be catch'd. In the rising stifle ill, Lest it grow against thy will. Drops do pierce the stubborn flint, Not by force but often falling; Custom kills with feeble dint, More by use than strength and vailing. Single sands have little weight, Many make a drawing freight. Tender twigs are bent with ease, Aged trees do break with bending; Young desires make little prease ', Growth doth make them past amending Happy man, that soon doth knock Babel's babes against the rock! press, crowd. THE BURNING BABE. As I in hoary winter's night stood shivering in the snow, Surprised I was with sudden heat which made my heart to glow; And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near, A pretty babe all burning bright did in the air appear, Who scorched with exceeding heat such floods of tears did shed, As though His floods should quench His flames with what His tears were fed; Alas! quoth He, but newly born in fiery heats of fry, Yet none approach to warm their hearts or feel my fire but I! FROM ST. PETER'S COMPLAINT.' Like solest swan, that swims in silent deep, Still in the 'lembic of thy doleful breast Those bitter fruits that from thy sins do grow; For fuel, self-accusing thoughts be best; Use fear as fire, the coals let penance bl w; Come sorrowing tears, the offspring of my grief, By you my sinful debts must be defray'd: Come good effect of ill-deserving cause, Ill gotten imps, yet virtuously brought forth; Self-blaming probates of infringed laws, Yet blamed faults redeeming with your worth; The signs of shame in you each eye may read, Yet, while you guilty prove, you pity plead. O beams of mercy! beat on sorrow's cloud, Pour suppling showers upon my parched ground; Bring forth the fruit to your due service vow'd, Let good desires with like deserts be crown'd: Water young blooming virtue's tender flow'r, Sin did all grace of riper growth devour. Weep balm and myrrh, you sweet Arabian trees, With purest gums perfume and pearl your rine; Shed on your honey-drops, you busy bees, I, barren plant, must weep unpleasant brine: If David, night by night, did bathe his bed, Who in her son her solace had foregone; If love, if loss, if fault, if spotted fame, If danger, death, if wrath, or wreck of weal, Entitle eyes true heirs to earned blame, That due remorse in such events conceal : That want of tears might well enrol my name, As chiefest saint in kalendar of shame. |