HERBERT. Thou art all health, health thriving till it make Of strange delights, where we may wish and take. That mends the looker's eyes: this is the well That washes what it shews. Who can endear Thy praise too much? thou art heaven's lieger * herc, Working against the states of death and hell. Thou art joy's handsel: heaven lies flat in thee, Oh that I knew how all thy lights combine, This verse marks that, and both do make a motion Such are thy secrets, which my life makes good, Stars are poor books, and oftentimes do miss : Church Music. Sweetest of sweets, I thank you; when displeasure You took me thence, and in your house of pleasure Now I in you without a body move, * Resident ambassador. 79 We both together sweetly live and love, Yet say sometimes, "God help poor kings!"" Comfort, I'll die; for if you post from me, Sure I shall do so, and much more: But if I travel in your company, You know the way to heaven's door. Constancy. Who is the honest man? He that doth still, and strongly, good pursue, Whose honesty is not So loose or easy, that ruffling wind Can blow away, or glitt'ring look it blind: While the world now rides by, now lags behind : Who, when great trials come, Nor seeks, nor shuns them; but doth calmly stay, Till he the thing and the example weigh: All being brought into a sum, What place or person calls for, he doth pay: Whom none can work, or woo, To use in anything a trick or sleight; His words and works, and fashion too, Who never melts or thaws At close temptations: when the day is done, And is their virtue-Virtue is his sun: ᎻᎬᎡᏴᎬᎡᎢ. Who, when he is to treat With sick folks, women, those whom passions sway, But though men fail him, yet his part doth play: Whom nothing can procure,. When the wide world runs bias, from his will Who still is right, and prays to be so still, Peace. Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave, I sought thee in a secret cave, And ask'd if Peace were there. A hollow wind did seem to answer, No; Go, scek elsewhere. I did; and going, did a rainbow note: This is the lace of Peace's coat: I will search out the matter; Then went I to a garden, and did spy The Crown Imperial: Sure, said I, But when I digg'd, I saw a worm devour At length I met a reverend good old man: I did demand, he thus began: There was a Prince of old At Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase Of flock and fold. 81 He sweetly lived; yet sweetness did not save His life from foes, But after death out of his grave There sprang twelve stalks of wheat; Which many wondering at, got some of those To plant and set. It prosper'd strangely, and did soon disperse. For they that taste it do rehearse A secret virtue, bringing Peace and Mirth Take of this grain, which in my garden grows, Make bread of it, and then repose; With so much earnestness you do pursue, Sunday. O day most calm, most bright, The other days and thou Make up one man; whose face thou art, Man had straight forward gone To endless death; but thou dost pull, HERBERT. And turn us round to look on One, We could not choose but look on still; The which He doth not fill. Sundays the pillars are On which heaven's palace arched lies. They are the fruitful beds and borders Which parts their ranks and orders. The Sundays of man's life, Threaded together on Time's string, More plentiful than hope. This day my Saviour rose, And did enclose this light for His : Who want herbs for their wound. The rest of our Creation Our great Redeemer did remove With the same shake, which at His passion As Samson bore the doors away, Christ's hands, though nail'd, wrought our salvation, The brightness of that day We sullied by our foul offence; Wherefore that robe we cast away, Having a new at His expense, 83 |