Perhaps my restless soul, tired with pursuit Of mortal beauty, seeking without fruit Contentment there, which hath not, when enjoyed, 25 In the first Fair may find the immortal Love, 30 35 And rather strive to gain from thence one thorn, LXXXI THE FLOWER. How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean Like snow in May, As if there were no such cold thing. Who would have thought my shrivelled heart Could have recovered greenness? It was gone Quite under ground; as flowers depart To see their mother-root, when they have blown; All the hard weather, Dead to the world, keep house unknown. These are thy wonders, Lord of power, Killing and quickening, bringing down to hell. 5 ΙΟ 15 And up to heaven in an hour; Making a chiming of a passing bell. We say amiss, This or that is: Thy word is all, if we could spell. Oh, that I once past changing were, Fast in thy Paradise, where no flower can wither! Offering at heaven, growing and groaning thither: Want a spring-shower, My sins and I joining together. But while I grow in a straight line, 20 25 Still upwards bent, as if heaven were mine own, 30 What frost to that? what pole is not the zone Where all things burn, When Thou dost turn, And the least frown of thine is shown? 35 And now in age I bud again, After so many deaths I live and write; I once more smell the dew and rain, That I am he, On whom thy tempests fell at night. These are thy wonders, Lord of love, Who would be more, Swelling through store, Forfeit their Paradise by their pride. George Herbert. 40 45 LXXXII GOD UNSEARCHABLE. Weigh me the fire; or canst thou find And taste thou them as saltless there Tell me the motes, dust, sands, and spears Robert Herrick. 5 ΙΟ 15 LXXXIII AT A SOLEMN MUSIC. Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy, With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee; G 5 10 And the Cherubic host in thousand quires Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms, Singing everlastingly : That we on earth, with undiscording voice, May rightly answer that melodious noise; Jarred against Nature's chime, and with harsh din To their great Lord, whose love their motion swayed 15 20 In first obedience and their state of good. 25 And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light! John Milton. LXXXIV THE RAINBOW. Still young and fine! but what is still in view For thy new light, and trembled at each shower! IO 5. When I behold thee, though my light be dim, Henry Vaughan. 15 LXXXV L'ALLEGRO. Hence, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy! Find out some uncouth cell, 5 Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven sings; There under ebon shades, and low-browed rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. But come, thou Goddess fair and free, In heaven yclept Euphrosyne, And by men, heart-easing Mirth; 10 With two sister Graces more, Or whether (as some sager sing) The frolic wind that breathes the spring, Zephyr, with Aurora playing, As he met her once a-maying, 15 20 There on beds of violets blue, And fresh-blown roses washed in dew, Filled her with thee, a daughter fair, So buxom, blithe, and debonair. Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathèd smiles, Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee 25 |