 | Otia Sacra Optima Fides |  |
Cui in calamitatibus soli sit fidendum.
When first the Towring Hills, the loftier Pine,Exchang'd to ride upon the swelling brine
Neptune prepar'd, and with more Active skill
Grew sometimes in the Vale, sometimes on th' Hill:
Whilst Floating in a compleat tackle drest,
She's taught to Sayl from Cadis to the East
Where Ganges runs, and from those coasts being come,
To steer a course back to Illyrium:
Then was that coward Fear banish'd the Mind
And Heart of Man, ambitious still to find
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Might trace the Greatness of the Deitie.
Then as if fortify'd with steel and brass,
Ventur'd his Bottom on this field of glass,
So brickle and unconstant, as contrives
A nearness unto Death, yet with reprives.
A small Gale over-fils the sayls, a leak
Is sprung, in shorter time than I can speak.
Then being o'r-set above, o'r-charg'd beneath,
What can expected be but present Death?
Unless we seek to Him, at whose command
Becalm'd into Obedience, Tempests stand,
Rising when He so pleases, and are gon
When He Planes o'r their rugged Motion:
Whose Power at life's exprest, when weight ascends,
And almost to the Crystall Skie extends:
And then again, when Nature on't doth enter,
It is permitted for to wash the Center.
Then are such troubled as on it doe ride,
Rowling and Tottering from side to side,
Being drunk through fear and sorrow; nor can tell
How many Sands shall knowl their Passing-bell.
Thus in a Trance dismay'd, and quite bereft
Of sense, save of a little spark that's left
To kindle hopes, They to their Maker Cry,
Who straight releases them from Misery,
Sending a Calm; whereat the Liquid plain
Becomes to them a Looking-glass again:
So They in mind restor'd, have quick access
Unto the Haven of their Happiness.
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