Silex Scintillans sacred poems and private ejaculations. The second Edition, In two Books; By Henry Vaughan, Silurist |
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The Proffer. |
 | Silex Scintillans |  |
The Proffer.
Be still black Parasites,
Flutter no more;
Were it still winter, as it was before,
You'd make no flights;
But now the dew and Sun have warm'd my bowres,
You flie and flock to suck the flowers.
Flutter no more;
Were it still winter, as it was before,
You'd make no flights;
But now the dew and Sun have warm'd my bowres,
You flie and flock to suck the flowers.
But you would honey make:
These buds will wither,
And what you now extract, in harder weather
Will serve to take;
Wise husband will (you say) there wants prevent,
Who do not so, too late repent.
These buds will wither,
And what you now extract, in harder weather
Will serve to take;
Wise husband will (you say) there wants prevent,
Who do not so, too late repent.
O poys'nous, subtile fowls!
The flyes of hell
That buz in every ear, and blow on souls
Until they smell
And rot, descend not here, nor think to stay,
I've read, who 'twas, drove you away.
The flyes of hell
That buz in every ear, and blow on souls
Until they smell
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I've read, who 'twas, drove you away.
Think you these you longing eyes,
Though sick and spent,
And almost famish'd, ever will consent
To leave those skies,
That glass of souls and spirits, where well drest
They shine in white (like stars) and rest.
Though sick and spent,
And almost famish'd, ever will consent
To leave those skies,
That glass of souls and spirits, where well drest
They shine in white (like stars) and rest.
Shall my short hour, my inch,
my one poor sand,
And crum of life, now ready to disband
Revolt and flinch,
And having born the burthen all the day,
Now cast at night my Crown away?
my one poor sand,
And crum of life, now ready to disband
Revolt and flinch,
And having born the burthen all the day,
Now cast at night my Crown away?
No, No; I am not he;
Go seek elsewhere.
I skill not your fine tinsel, and false hair,
Your Sorcery
And smooth seducements: I'le not stuff my story
With your Commonwealth and glory.
Go seek elsewhere.
I skill not your fine tinsel, and false hair,
Your Sorcery
And smooth seducements: I'le not stuff my story
With your Commonwealth and glory.
There are, that will sow tares
And scatter death
Amongst the quick, selling their souls and breath
For any wares;
But when thy Master comes, they'l finde and see
There's a reward for them and thee.
And scatter death
Amongst the quick, selling their souls and breath
For any wares;
But when thy Master comes, they'l finde and see
There's a reward for them and thee.
Then keep the antient way!
Spit out their phlegm
And fill thy brest with home; think on thy dream:
A calm, bright day!
A Land of flowers and spices! the word given,
If these be fair, O what is Heaven!
Spit out their phlegm
And fill thy brest with home; think on thy dream:
A calm, bright day!
A Land of flowers and spices! the word given,
If these be fair, O what is Heaven!
| Silex Scintillans | |