He finds it dead, and in a grave. But as this restless, vocal spring In thy free services engage; And though, while here, of force I must THE TEMPEST. 1 How is man parcelled out! how every hour When nature on her bosom saw Her infants die, And all her flowers withered to straw, Her breasts grown dry; She made the earth, their nurse and tomb, Sigh to the sky, Till to those sighs, fetched from her womb, So in the midst of all her fears And faint requests, Her earnest sighs procured her tears And filled her breasts. 2 Oh that man could do so! that he would hear 3 Sure mighty Love, foreseeing the descent Hid in these low things snares to gain his heart, And laid surprises in each element. 4 All things here show him heaven; waters that fall Chide and fly up; mists of corruptest foam Quit their first beds and mount; trees, herbs, flowers, all Strive upwards still, and point him the way home. 5 How do they cast off grossness? only earth And man, like Issachar, in loads delight, Water's refined to motion, air to light, Fire to all three,1 but man hath no such mirth. 6 Plants in the root with earth do most comply, Their leaves with water and humidity, The flowers to air draw near and subtilty, And seeds a kindred fire have with the sky. 7 All have their keys and set ascents; but man Though he knows these, and hath more of his own, Sleeps at the ladder's foot; alas! what can These new discoveries do, except they drown? 1'All three:' light, motion, heat. 8 Thus, grovelling in the shade and darkness, he 9 Yet hugs he still his dirt; the stuff he wears, And painted trimming, takes down both his eyes; Heaven hath less beauty than the dust he spies, And money better music than the spheres. 10 Life's but a blast; he knows it; what? shall straw And bulrush-fetters temper his short hour? Must he nor sip nor sing? grows ne'er a flower To crown his temples? shall dreams be his law? 11 O foolish man! how hast thou lost thy sight? How is it that the sun to thee alone Is grown thick darkness, and thy bread a stone? 12 Lord! thou didst put a soul here. If I must THE WORLD. 1 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, Like a vast shadow moved, in which the world The doting lover in his quaintest strain Did there complain; Near him, his lute, his fancy, and his flights, With gloves, and knots, the silly snares of pleasure, All scattered lay, while he his eyes did pour 2 The darksome statesman, hung with weights and woe, And clouds of crying witnesses without Yet digged the mole, and, lest his ways be found, Where he did clutch his prey. But one did see Churches and altars fed him; perjuries It rained about him blood and tears; but he 3 The fearful miser on a heap of rust Sat pining all his life there, did scarce trust Yet would not place one piece above, but lives Thousands there were as frantic as himself, The downright epicure placed heaven in sense, While others, slipped into a wide excess, The weaker sort slight, trivial wares enslave, And poor, despised truth sat counting by 4 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 To live in grots and caves, and hate the day The way, which from this dead and dark abode A way where you might tread the sun, and be But, as I did their madness so discuss, One whispered thus, This ring the bridegroom did for none provide, All that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth away, and the lusts thereof; but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever.'-1 JOHN ii. 16, 17. THE CONSTELLATION. 1 Fair, ordered lights, whose motion without noise Whose spring is on that hill where you do grow, 2 With what exact obedience do you move, And in your vast progressions overlook |