Divine emblems Embellished with etchings on copper, after the fashion of Master Francis Quarles. Designed and written by, Johann Abricht [i.e. Jonathan Birch |
Divine emblems | ||
EMBLEM II.
[Whither away, fond Boy?—thy fling of pleasure]
I
Whither away, fond Boy?—thy fling of pleasureThou hast enjoyed—without control or measure:
Thy whim exhausts not!—and the World but seems
A willing agent, to thy waking dreams—
But will it always prove as willing as it seems?
II
Though calm and sunshine—and the gentle breezesAttending, fan thee—and the gliding pleases—
Though confidence be buoyant, and thy skill
Be surety 'gainst a common chance of ill:
A blast may rend thy sail—a wave thy fortunes spill.
III
Unthwarted hankerings sure have turn'd thy brain—What! seek new pleasures o'er so foul a main?
Thy hollow bark—should zephyrs turn to gusts,
Will shift its ballast—and the fool that trusts
Its specious loyalty—be overwhelmed in lusts.
IV
And art thou still of mind to venture outBeyond thy ken? Young Steersman! put about
Before the Pharos sinks—be not so keck!
Thy unrestrained career may meet a check
I'th' sea—although on land thou could'st not break thy neck.
V
Poor, blind, inflated Boy! thou dost not seeThe rocks and shoals, that almost stare at thee;
Charybdis yawns—and Scylla's iron shore
In vain rejects the waves, with loudest roar—
Thou hast no ear; no eye, to shun or to explore.
The flesh is to be satisfied so far as suffices to our good; whosoever alloweth so much to her as to make her proud, knoweth not how to be satisfied: to be satisfied is a great art; lest by the satiety of the flesh we break forth into the iniquity of her folly.
For Mammon is a chief tempter—he hath under his control riches, honours, pleasures, and giveth fair weather revels to foul souls.
The heart is a small thing, but desireth great matters—it is not sufficient for a kite's dinner, yet the whole world is not sufficient for it.
Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy on him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.
There is no end of all his labour, neither is his eye satisfied with riches.
EPIG.
[The wayward Boy, whose foolish loving mother]
The wayward Boy, whose foolish loving motherPermits him domineer o'er servants, sister, brother!
Fancies such mute endurance of his kicks and blows
Results from power in him—so with his growth he grows
A braggart!—till some rustic urchin mar his nose!
Divine emblems | ||