Wars with their noise affright us; when they cease, What then remains, but that we still should cry Lord Bacon LVIII THE LESSONS OF NATURE F this volume which we World do name this fair volume and leaves could turn with care, Of him who it corrects, and did it frame, We clear might read the art and wisdom rare : Find out his power which wildest powers doth tame, His providence extending everywhere, His justice which proud rebels doth not spare, But silly we, like foolish children, rest Well pleased with colour'd vellum, leaves of gold, Or if by chance we stay our minds on aught, LIX OTH then the world go thus, doth all thus move? DOTE Is this the justice which on Earth we find? Is this that firm decree which all doth bind? Are these your influences, Powers above? Those souls which vice's moody mists most blind, Blind Fortune, blindly, most their friend doth prove; Ah! if a Providence doth sway this all Why should best minds groan under most distress? Heavens! hinder, stop this fate; or grant a time When good may have, as well as bad, their prime ! W. Drummond TH LX THE WORLD'S WAY IRED with all these, for restful death I cry - And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, And gilded honour shamefully misplaced, And art made tongue-tied by authority, - - Tired with all these, from these would I be gone, Save that, to die, I leave my Love alone: W. Shakespeare LXI SAINT JOHN BAPTIST 'HE last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King, Among that savage brood the woods forth bring, Which he more harmless found than man, and mild. His food was locusts, and what there doth spring, With honey that from virgin hives distill'd; Parch'd body, hollow eyes, some uncouth thing Made him appear, long since from earth exiled. There burst he forth: All ye whose hopes rely - Who listen'd to his voice, obey'd his cry? Only the echoes, which he made relent, BOOK SECOND LXII ODE ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY HIS is the month, and this the happy morn, Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace. That glorious Form, that Light unsufferable, Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council-table He laid aside; and, here with us to be, Forsook the courts of everlasting day, And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. Say, heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain Now while the heaven, by the sun's team untrod, Hath took no print of the approaching light, And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright? See how from far, upon the eastern road, And lay it lowly at his blessed feet; Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet, And join thy voice unto the angel quire From out his secret altar touch'd with hallow'd fire. THE HYMN It was the winter wild While the heaven-born Child All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies; Nature in awe to him Had doff'd her gaudy trim, With her great Master so to sympathize: It was no season then for her To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour. Only with speeches fair She woos the gentle air To hide her guilty front with innocent snow; Pollute with sinful blame, The saintly veil of maiden white to throw ; Should look so near upon her foul deformities. |