TRUE LOVE.

ET me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove :

O, no! it is an ever-fixèd mark,

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

A PICTURE.

10! as a careful housewife runs to catch

One of her feathered creatures broke away,

Sets down her babe, and makes all swift despatch

In pursuit of the thing she would have stay;
Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase,
Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent
To follow that which flies before her face,
Not prizing her poor infant's discontent;

So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee,
Whilst I, thy babe, chase thee afar behind;
But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me,
And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind:

So will I pray that thou mayst have thy 'Will,'
If thou turn back, and my loud crying still.

SOUL AND BODY.

OOR soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
Fooled by these rebel powers that thee array,

Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,

Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
Eat up thy charge? is this thy body's end?
Then, Soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss,
And let that pine to aggravate thy store;
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be fed, without be rich no more:

So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,
And Death once dead, there's no more dying then.

CONTENT.

H, sweet Content, where is thy mild abode? Is it with shepherds and light-hearted swains Which sing upon the downs and pipe abroad, Tending their flocks and cattle on the plains? Ah, sweet Content, where dost thou safely rest? In heaven, with Angels which the praises sing Of Him that made and rules at his behest The minds and hearts of every living thing? Ah, sweet Content, where doth thine harbour hold? Is it in churches with religious men

Which please the gods with prayers manifold,

And in their studies meditate it then?

Whether thou dost in heaven or earth appear,

Be where thou wilt, thou wilt not harbour here.

THE TALENT.

RACIOUS, Divine, and most Omnipotent!
Receive Thy servant's Talent in good part,
Who hid it not, but willing did convert

It to best use he could, when it was lent:
The sum-though slender, yet not all misspent-
Receive, dear God of grace! from cheerful heart
Of him that knows how merciful Thou art,
And with what grace to contrite sinners bent.

I know my fault, I did not as I should;
My sinful flesh against my soul rebell'd;

But since I did endeavour what I could,
Let not my little nothing be withheld

From Thy rich treasuries of endless grace;
But (for Thy sake) let it procure a place.