The poems of George Daniel ... From the original mss. in the British Museum: Hitherto unprinted. Edited, with introduction, notes, and illustrations, portrait, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart: In four volumes |
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| II. |
 | III, IV. |
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| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. | Chap. xxxiv. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
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 | Chap. xxxiv. The poems of George Daniel |  |
XXXIV. Chap. xxxiv.
How doe Fooles please themselves in empty things,
And dote on Shaddowes, wth imperfect wings!
How wth a Dreame transported! & doe give
Way vnto ffancye, in a strong beleife;
Soe may they Claspe a shaddow, soe pursue
The empty wind; or soe one fface doth show
Vnto another, as imaginarie
Conceivéd hopes, from perfect things doe varie:
And dote on Shaddowes, wth imperfect wings!
How wth a Dreame transported! & doe give
Way vnto ffancye, in a strong beleife;
Soe may they Claspe a shaddow, soe pursue
The empty wind; or soe one fface doth show
Vnto another, as imaginarie
Conceivéd hopes, from perfect things doe varie:
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Who can be purgéd by a Hand impure?
What certainties can lying lips assure?
'Tis vainity to trust in Augur's skill,
Witchcrafte is false, & Dreames are even ill;
These are the fruites of a Distracted braine,
Who rambles in the Search of Shaddowes vaine;
Not every dreame a vision from above,
But, by Almighty power, thy soule to prove:
Therfore, beware! Dreames are vnsure, & fleet;
Deficient to the point, when wee should see't;
The Law shall be made perfect, without Lyes;
And the iust Man needs only to be wise;
What do the vnexpert know? Instruction adds
To vnderstanding, & Experience glads
A Wise Man's heart, in the discoverie
Of Secrets, in a true Sufficiency:
Ignorance is vnexpert, & the Face
Of smileing Error leads to Wickedness.
What certainties can lying lips assure?
'Tis vainity to trust in Augur's skill,
Witchcrafte is false, & Dreames are even ill;
These are the fruites of a Distracted braine,
Who rambles in the Search of Shaddowes vaine;
Not every dreame a vision from above,
But, by Almighty power, thy soule to prove:
Therfore, beware! Dreames are vnsure, & fleet;
Deficient to the point, when wee should see't;
The Law shall be made perfect, without Lyes;
And the iust Man needs only to be wise;
What do the vnexpert know? Instruction adds
To vnderstanding, & Experience glads
A Wise Man's heart, in the discoverie
Of Secrets, in a true Sufficiency:
Ignorance is vnexpert, & the Face
Of smileing Error leads to Wickedness.
Once wand'red I; & many things have seene,
But words fall short to vtter what wee meane;
I diverse wayes have knowne, beene oft in dread
Of threat'ninge death, but was deliveréd.
But words fall short to vtter what wee meane;
I diverse wayes have knowne, beene oft in dread
Of threat'ninge death, but was deliveréd.
The iust man's Soule shall live, being secure
In faith to him, who only can assure;
He that fears God will never be afraid
Of humane Power; God is his hope, his Aide;
Blesséd the Soule for ever, of the Iust;
Who is his strength? in whom (ah) doth he trust?
God will secure him, as a Bulwarke rise
Against the strong assaults of enemies;
From heat, a sweet repose; a Grove full growne,
To guard the Temples from the scorching Sun;
A lanthorne for the Steps; a firme Support
In present danger, left the feet fall short.
In faith to him, who only can assure;
He that fears God will never be afraid
Of humane Power; God is his hope, his Aide;
Blesséd the Soule for ever, of the Iust;
Who is his strength? in whom (ah) doth he trust?
God will secure him, as a Bulwarke rise
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From heat, a sweet repose; a Grove full growne,
To guard the Temples from the scorching Sun;
A lanthorne for the Steps; a firme Support
In present danger, left the feet fall short.
God is propitious to the Iust, and will
Exalt the Soule, wth a transcendent Skill;
Sheds light Devine to the imperfect Eye;
Gives Life & health, blest in Satietye.
Exalt the Soule, wth a transcendent Skill;
Sheds light Devine to the imperfect Eye;
Gives Life & health, blest in Satietye.
A fain'd oblation is a sacrifice
Not worthy, nor of pleasure in his Eyes;
God is well-pleased, only pleas'd wth them
That follow Truth, & love his holy Name;
He not allowes the Prayers nor offerings
Of wicked persons, neither shall their Sinnes
Be satisfied wh Incense, nor suffice
The constant tenders of their Sacrifice.
Not worthy, nor of pleasure in his Eyes;
God is well-pleased, only pleas'd wth them
That follow Truth, & love his holy Name;
He not allowes the Prayers nor offerings
Of wicked persons, neither shall their Sinnes
Be satisfied wh Incense, nor suffice
The constant tenders of their Sacrifice.
He that doth bring wh faint Devotion,
His off'ring, fruit of his Oppression,
Doth as the Butcher, shedding Infants' blood,
When the Sad ffather, as a witnes stood.
His off'ring, fruit of his Oppression,
Doth as the Butcher, shedding Infants' blood,
When the Sad ffather, as a witnes stood.
The Poore live in their Bread, the bread of Care,
Who hinders it is as a Murtherer;
Oppression is a Vulture, & Deceit
Wanders in blood, t'wth hold the hyre of Sweat.
Who hinders it is as a Murtherer;
Oppression is a Vulture, & Deceit
Wanders in blood, t'wth hold the hyre of Sweat.
When carefull hands would raise a lofty wall,
And Malice vndermines, to make it ffall,
What profit is their toyle? what doe they gaine?
But (the foole's wages,) Labour for their paine.
When one doth tender his Devotion,
And the same wind breathes Execration,
Which voice is heard? He that for filth doth bath
And Muddles in't againe, what profit hath
The water done him for his penetence?
Who falls againe vnto his old offence,
Alas! what doth he? who will heare his Prayer?
Worthless his ffasts, and his Almes fruitles are.
And Malice vndermines, to make it ffall,
What profit is their toyle? what doe they gaine?
But (the foole's wages,) Labour for their paine.
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And the same wind breathes Execration,
Which voice is heard? He that for filth doth bath
And Muddles in't againe, what profit hath
The water done him for his penetence?
Who falls againe vnto his old offence,
Alas! what doth he? who will heare his Prayer?
Worthless his ffasts, and his Almes fruitles are.
| Chap. xxxiv. The poems of George Daniel | |