Flamma sine Fumo or, poems without fictions. Hereunto are annexed the Causes, Symptoms, or Signes of several Diseases with their Cures, and also the diversity of Urines, with their Causes in Poetical measure. By R. W. [i.e. Rowland Watkyns] |
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 | Flamma sine Fumo |  |
HEAVEN.
Non est mortale quod opto.
The world's an empty chest, where nothing lies,
Which may content the longing heart or eyes:
Figs from these thistles we shall never gain,
Nor grapes of pleasure from these thorns of pain
My soul disdains the Earth, and sores above,
Feather'd with wings of an immortal love.
The Prisoner, which in some dark dungeon lies,
No comfort feels, nor light of sun espies:
What joy would he conceive, if he were free,
And could enjoy his wished liberty?
So my imprison'd soul expects the day,
When Nature shall dissolve this house of clay:
For then I shall ascend with swift desire,
And sudden motion to the Angels quire;
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Which joyes all creatures, lightneth every place,
No Sun or Moon shines there; no day or night,
The Lamb himself is the eternal light.
There is the Mercy-Seat: the holy hill,
Where neither thieves nor tyrants rob or kill.
No shackles hurt the feet, nor cares the mind,
The poor man there is free from storms and wind.
All discontent, all imperfection dyes,
The lame receive their feet, the blind their eyes.
All tears are wip't away: None doth command,
Each Saint doth hold a Scepter in his hand:
Lord, let me see thy Court; I seek no more,
But the least place to stand behind the door.
| Flamma sine Fumo | |