25 From whence th' inlightened spirit sees DEPARTED FRIENDS (From Silex Scintillans, Part II., 1655) They are all gone into the world of light! 5 It glows and glitters in my cloudy brest Like stars upon some gloomy grove, 10 Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest I see them walking in an air of glory Whose light doth trample on my days; My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, O holy Hope! and high Humility! High as the Heavens above; 15 These are your walks, and you have shew'd them 20 me To kindle my cold love. Dear, beauteous Death; the Jewel of the Just! What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, Could man outlook that mark! He that hath found some fledg'd bird's nest may know At first sight if the bird be flown; But what fair dell or grove he sings in now, 25 And yet, as Angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul when man doth sleep, 30 So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted theams And into glory peep. If a star were confin'd into a tomb, Her captive flames must needs burn there; But when the hand that lockt her up gives room, She'll shine through all the sphere. O Father of eternal life, and all Created glories under thee! 35 Resume thy spirit from this world of thrall Into true liberty! 40 Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill Or else remove me hence unto that hill George Wither 1588-1667 THE AUTHOR'S RESOLUTION IN A SONNET (From Fidelia, 1615) Shall I, wasting in despaire Dye, because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care 5 Be she fairer than the Day Shall my seely heart be pin'd 15 What care I how kind she be? Shall a woman's Vertues move What care I how Good she be? 25 Cause her Fortune seems too high 30 Shall I play the fool and die? Thinks what with them he wold do, Great, or Good, or Kind, or Faire 35 If she love me (this beleeve) I will Die ere she shall grieve, If she slight me when I woe, Abrabam Cowley 1618-1667 A VOTE (From Poetical Blossoms, second ed., 1636) 65 This only grant me, that my means may lie Too low for envy, for contempt too high. Some honour I would have, 70 75 Not from great deeds, but good alone; Rumour can ope the grave. Acquaintance I would have, but when 't depends Not on the number, but the choice of friends. Books should, not business, entertain the light, And sleep, as undisturb'd as death, the night. My house a cottage more Than palace, and should fitting be For all my use, no luxury. My garden painted o'er With nature's hand, not art's; and pleasures yield, 80 Horace might envy in his Sabine field. Thus would I double my life's fading space, These unbought sports, this happy state, To-morrow let my sun his beams display, THE GRASSHOPPER (From Miscellanies, 1650) Happy Insect what can be And thy verdant cup does fill. Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing; Thee country hindes with gladness hear, Thee Phoebus loves, and does inspire; 25 To thee of all things upon earth, Dost neither age, nor winter know, But when thou'st drunk, and danced, and sung, 30 Thy fill, the flowery leaves among (Voluptuous, and wise with all, Epicurean animal!) Sated with thy summer feast, Thou retir'st to endless rest. |