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GAIN, how can fhe but immortal be,

When with the motions of both will and wit

She ftill aspireth to eternity,

And never refts till fhe attain to it?

Water in conduit-pipes can rise no higher

Than the well-head from whence it firft doth spring : Then, fince to eternal God fhe doth aspire,

She cannot be but an eternal thing.

"All moving things to other things do move

Of the same kind, which shows their nature such; So earth falls down, and fire doth mount above, Till both their proper elements do touch.

And as the moisture which the thirsty earth
Sucks from the sea to fill her empty veins,
From out her womb at last doth take a birth,

And runs a lymph along the graffy plains:

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Long doth she stay, as loth to leave the land
From whose soft fide the firft did iffue make;
She tastes all places, turns to every hand,
Her flowery banks unwilling to forsake.

Yet Nature so her ftreams doth lead and carry,
As that her course doth make no final stay,
Till the herself unto the Ocean marry,

Within whose watery bosom first she lay.

E'en so the soul, which in this earthly mould
The spirit of God doth secretly infuse,
Because at firft fhe doth the earth behold,
And only this material world fhe views.

At first her mother Earth fhe holdeth dear,

And doth embrace the world, and worldly things She flies close by the ground and hovers here, And mounts not up with her celeftial wings:

Yet under heaven fhe cannot light on aught
That with her heavenly nature doth agree;
She cannot reft, fhe cannot fix her thought,
She cannot in this world contented be.

For who did ever yet, in honor, wealth,

Or pleasure of the sense, contentment find? Who ever ceased to wifh when he had wealth? Or having wisdom was not vexed in mind?

Then as a bee, which among weeds doth fall,

Which seem sweet flowers with luftre fresh and gay, She lights on that and this, and tafteth all;

But pleased with none, doth rise and soar away.

So when the soul finds here no true content,

And like Noah's dove can no sure footing take, She doth return from whence fhe firft was sent, And flies to Him that firft her wings did make.

So while the virgin soul on earth doth stay,

She, wooed and tempted in ten thousand ways, By these great powers which on the earth bear sway, The wisdom of the world, wealth, pleasure, praise;

With these sometimes fhe doth her time beguile,
These do by fibs her fantasy poffefs;

But she distastes them all within a while,
And in the sweeteft finds a tediousness;

But if upon the world's Almighty King

She once doth fix her humble, loving thoughts; Who by his picture drawn in every thing,

And sacred meffages, her love hath sought;

Of Him fhe thinks she cannot think too much;
This honey tafted ftill, is ever sweet;
The pleasure of her ravished thought is such,

As almost here fhe with her blifs doth meet.

But when in heaven fhe fhall His effence see,
This is her sovereign good, and perfect blifs,
Her longings, wifhings, hopes, all finished be,
Her joys are full, her motions reft in this.

There is the crowned with garlands of content;
There doth the manna eat, and nectar drink :
That presence doth such high delights present,
As never tongue could speak, nor heart could think.
Sir John Davies. Born in 1570.



HE seas are quiet when the winds are o'er,
So calm are we when paffions are no more!
For then we know how vain it was to boast
Of fleeting things so certain to be loft.

Clouds of affection from our younger eyes
Conceal that emptinefs which age descries;
The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed,
Lets in new light through chinks that time has made.

Stronger by weakness, wiser men become
As they draw near to their eternal home;

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