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Where shall I sojourn? what kind sea will hide
What if my feet should take their hasty flight,
What if my soul should take the wings of day,
What if some solid rock should entertain
Nor sea, nor shade, nor shield, nor rock, nor cave,
Nor silent deserts, nor the sullen grave,
What flame-eyed Fury means to smite, can save.
Tis vain to flee; till gentle Mercy show
Her better eye, the farther off we go,
The swing of Justice deals the mightier blow.
Th' ingenuous child, corrected, doth not fly
Great God 1 there is no safety here below;
Thou art my fortress, Uiou that seem'st my foe;
Tis thou, that strik'st the stroke, must guard the blow.
She's empty: hark! she sounds: there's nothing there
But noise to fill thy ear;
A blast of murmuring wind:
But merely tunn'd with air.
The soul that vainly founds
She's empty: hark! she sounds: there's nothing in't;
The spark-engendering flint
Dissolve and quench thy thirst,
With smooth-faced calms of rest.
From shades of black-mouth'd night, As in this empty world to find a full delight
She's empty: hark! she sounds: 'tis void and vast;
What if some flattering blast
And whisper in thine ear?
It is but wind, and blows but wliere it list,
And vatiisheth like mist.
Would be so base to bind
She's empty: hark 1 she sounds: 'tis but a ball
For fools to play withal;
That's lined with silken trouble.
Is vanity and vexation:
A quest-house of complaint.
She's empty: hark! she sounds: 'tis vain and void.
What's here to be enjoy'd
Drawn now and cross'd to-morrow?
Revived with living death?
Than what dull flesh pro]>ounds:
MERCY TEMPERING JUSTICE.
Had not the milder hand of Mercy broke
Though in Ids day Quarles was mostly known as a poet, he was also the author of a few prose works, the principal of which is the « Enchiridion,' containing Institutions divine, contemplative, practical, moral, ethical, economical, political." Of diis, Hcadley remarks, "had tin's little piece been written at Athens or Rome, its author would have been classed with the wise men of his country." The following are some specimens of it:—
If thou be ambitious of honor, and yet fearful of the canker of honor, envy, so behave thyself, that opinion may be satisfied in this, that thou seekest merit, and not fame; and that thou attributes! thy preferment rather to Providence than thy own virtue. Honor is a due debt to the deserver; and who ever envied the
payment of a debt? A just advancement is a providential act; and who ever envied the act of Providence?
If evil men speak good, or good men evil, of thy conversation, examine all thy actions, and suspect thyself. But if evil men speak evil of thee, hold it as thy honor; and, by way of thankfulness, love them; but upon condition that they continue to hate thee.
To tremble at the sight of thy sin, makes thy faith the less apt to tremble: the devils believe and tremble, because they tremble at what they believe; their belief brings trembling: thy trembling brings belief.
If thou desire to be truly valiant, fear to do any injury: he that fears not to do evil, is always afraid to suffer evil; he that never fears, is desperate; and he that fears always, is a coward. He is the true valiant man, that dares nothing but what he may, and fears nothing but what he ought.
If thou stand guilty of oppression, or wrongfully possest of another's right, see thou make restitution before thou givest an alms: if otherwise, what art thou but a thief, and makest God thy receiver?
When thou prayest for spiritual graces, let thy prayer be absolute; when for temporal blessings, add a clause of God's pleasure: in both, with faith and humiliation: so shalt thou, undoubtedly, receive what thou desirest, or more, or better. Never prayer rightly made, was made unheard; or heard, ungranted.
Not to give to the poor, is to take from him. Not to feed the hungry, if thou hast it, is to the utmost of thy power to kill him. That, therefore, thou mayst avoid both sacrilege and murder, be charitable.
Hath any wronged thee? Be bravely revenged: slight it, and the work's begun; forgive it, and 'tis finished: he is below himself that is not above an injury.
Gaze not on beauty too much, lest it blast thee; nor too long, lest it blind thee; nor too near, lest it burn thee: if thou like it, it deceives thee ; if thou love it, it disturbs thee; if thou lust after it, it destroys thee: if virtue accompany it, it is the heart's paradise; if vice associate it, it is the soul's purgatory: it is the wise man's bonfire, and the fool's furnace.
Use law and physic only for necessity; they that use them otherwise, abuse themselves into weak bodies and light purses: they are good remedies, bad businesses, and .worse recreations.
If what thou hast received from God thou sharest to the poor, thou hast gained a blessing by the hand; if what thou hast taken from the poor, thou givest to God, thou hast purchased a curse into the bargain. He that puts to pious uses what he hath got by impious usury, robs the spittle1 to make an hospital; and the cry of the one will out-plead the prayers of the other.
Give not thy tongue too great a liberty, lest it take thee prisoner. A word unspoken is, like the sword in the scabbard, thine; if vented, thy sword is in another's hand. If thou desire to be held wise, be so wise as to hold thy tongue.
Wisdom without innocency is knavery; innocency without wisdom is foolery: be, therefore, as wise as serpents, and innocent as doves. The subtilty of the serpent instructs the innocency of the dove; the innocency of the dove corrects the subtilty of the serpent. What God hath joined together, let no man separate.
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 1585—1649.
Wittux DncMMcmn, of Hnwthornden, the first Scottish poet that wrote well in English, was born in 1585. "To the scholar and the wit he added every elegant attainment After forming his taste at the University of Edinburgh, he enlarged his views by travelling and by a cultivation of the modern languages. At first he appears to have studied the law, but soon left it for more congenial pursuits. The character of his poetry is various, consisting of sonnets, epigrams, epitaphs, religious and other poems. His sonnets are the most beautiful, and some of them of the highest excellence. His greatest charm is, unaffected feeling, and unaffected language."2 His feelings were so intense on the side of the royalists, that the execution of Charles is said to have hastened his death, which took place at the close of the same year, December, 1649. The following are specimens of his sonnets':—
THE PRAISE OF A SOLITARY LIFE.
Thrice happy he, who by some shady grove,
Far from the clamorous world, doth live his own;
But doth converse with that eternal Love.
0 how more sweet is bird's harmonious moan,
Than those smooth whisperings near a prince's throne,
01 how more sweet is zephyr's wholesome breath,
Than that applause vain honor doth bequeath I
1 Tins telm was originally applied to a lazar-housc, or receptacle for persona aOcctcd with leprosy, but afterward* to an hospital of any kind.
t Bee Retrospective Review, ix. 3as.
Drunimond's sonnets, 1 tl Ink, come as near as almost any others to the perfection of this kind of WTlUng, which should embody a scnuinent, and every shade of a scnUmcnt, as it varies with time and place and humor, with the cxtra\Mgnnce or lightness of a momentary Imprcsalon."—HaMUU.
Sleep, Silence' child, sweet father ol soft rest,
Prince, whose approach peaeo to all mortals brings,
Indifferent host to shepherds and to kings,
Lo, by thy charming rod, all breathing tilings
And yet o'er me to spread thy drowsy wings
Since I am thine, 0 come, but with that face
Or if, deaf god, thou do deny that grace,
The lady to whom he was engaged to be married was suddenly snatched away by death, and the sonnets which dwell on his own afflictions are as lull of true reeling as poetic merit.
Sweet Spring, thou turn'st1 with nil thy goodly train,
The zephyrs cirri the green locks of the plain,
And happy days, with thee come not again;
The sad memorials only of my pain
Thou art the same which still thou wast before,
Is gone.; nor gold nor gems her can restore.
What doth it serve to see sun's burning face?
And all the glory of that starry place?
The mountain's pride, the meadow's flowery grace;
The sport of floods which would themselves embrace!
The wanton merle, the nightingale's sad strains,
For what doth serve all that this world contains,
TO HIS LUTE.
My lute, be as thou wast, when thou didst grow