Wherefore, if men inclined are to look, With what is here, though but in homely rhimes: No doubt some could these groy'ling notions raise By this or that man's fancy we should have What though my text seems mean, my morals be Than some a text, wherefore should we deny Wise Solomon did fools to pismires send, I think the wiser sort my rhime may slight, While I peruse them, fools will take delight. Then what care I? The foolish, God has chose; And doth by foolish things their minds compose, And settle upon that which is divine: Great things by little ones are made to shine. I could were I so pleased, use higher strains; And for applause on tenters stretch my brains; But what needs that? The arrow out of sight As for the inconsiderableness Of things, by which I do my mind express; J. B. DIVINE EMBLEMS. UPON THE BARREN FIG-TREE IN GOD'S VINEYARD. WHAT! barren here, in this so good a soil, Art thou not planted by the water side? Thou hast been digg'd about, and dunged too, Bear fruit, or else thy end will cursed be! He that about thy roots takes pains to dig, Would, if on thee were found but one good Fig, Preserve thee from the axe; but, barren tree, Bear fruit, or else thy end will cursed be! The utmost end of patience is at hand; Thy standing, nor thy name, will help at all; |