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Silex Scintillans

or Sacred Poems and Priuate Eiaculations: By Henry Vaughan

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Isaacs Marriage.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


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Isaacs Marriage.

And Isaac went out to pray in the field at the Even-tide, and he lift up his eyes, and saw, and behold, the Camels were comming. Gen. cap. 24. ver. 63.

Praying! and to be married? It was rare,
But now 'tis monstrous; and that pious care
Though of our selves, is so much out of date,
That to renew't, were to degenerate.
But thou a Chosen sacrifice wert given,
And offer'd up so early unto heaven
Thy flames could not be out; Religion was
Ray'd into thee, like beames into a glasse,
Where, as thou grewst, it multiply'd, and shin'd
The sacred Constellation of thy mind.
But being for a bride, sure, prayer was
Very strange stuffe wherewith to court thy lasse,
Had'st ne'r an oath, nor Complement? thou wert
An odde, corse sutor; Hadst thou but the art
Of these our dayes, thou couldst have coyn'd thee twenty
New sev'rall oathes, and Complements (too) plenty;
O sad, and wild excesse! and happy those
White dayes, that durst no impious mirth expose!
When sinne, by sinning oft, had not lost sence,
Nor bold-fac'd custome banish'd Innocence;
Thou hadst no pompous traine, nor Antick crowd
Of young, gay swearers, with their needless, lowd
Retinue; All was here smooth as thy bride
And calme like her, or that mild Evening-tide;
Yet, hadst thou nobler guests: Angels did wind,
And rove about thee, guardians of thy mind,
These fetch'd thee home thy bride, and all the way
Advis'd thy servant what to doe, and say;
These taught him at the Well, and thither brought
The Chast, and lovely object of thy thought;

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But here was ne'r a Complement, not one
Spruce, supple cringe, or study'd looke put on,
All was plaine, modest truth: Nor did she come
In rowles, and Curles, mincing, and stately dumbe,
But in a frighted, virgin-blush approach'd
Fresh as the morning, when 'tis newly Coach'd;
O sweet, divine simplicity! O grace
Beyond a Curled lock, or painted face!
A Pitcher too she had, nor thought it much
To carry that, which some would scorn to touch;
With which in mild, chast language she did wooe
To draw him drinke, and for his Camels too.
And now thou knewst her comming, It was time
To get thee wings on, and devoutly climbe
Unto thy God, for Marriage of all states
Makes most unhappy, or most fortunates;
This brought thee forth, where now thou didst undresse
Thy soule, and with new pinions refresh
Her wearied wings, which so restor'd did flye
Above the stars, a track unknown, and high,
And in her piercing flight perfum'd the ayre
Scatt'ring the Myrrhe, and Incense of thy pray'r.
So from

A wel in the South Country where Jacob dwelt, betweene Cadesh, & Bered; Heb. the wel of him that liveth, and seeth me.

Lahai-roi's Well, some spicie cloud

Woo'd by the Sun swels up to be his shrowd,
And from his moist wombe weeps a fragrant showre,
Which, scatter'd in a thousand pearls, each flowre
And herb partakes, where having stood awhile
And something coold the parch'd, and thirstie Isle,
The thankfull Earth unlocks her selfe, and blends,
A thousand odours, which (all mixt,) she sends
Up in one cloud, and so returnes the skies
That dew they lent, a breathing sacrifice.
Thus soar'd thy soul, who (though young,) didst inherit
Together with his bloud, thy fathers spirit,
Whose active zeale, and tryed faith were to thee
Familiar ever since thy Infancie,
Others were tym'd, and train'd up to't, but thou
Didst thy swift years in piety out-grow,

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Age made them rev'rend, and a snowie head,
But thou wert so, e're time his snow could shed;
Then, who would truly limne thee out, must paint
First, a young Patriarch, then a marry'd Saint.