Wittes Pilgrimage (by Poeticall Essaies): Through a VVorld of amorous Sonnets, Soule-passions, and other Passages, Diuine, Philosophicall, Morall, Poeticall, and Politicall. By Iohn Davies |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
Written to the right Honorable, and most iuditious Lord
William Earle of Pembrooke that now is.
|
 | Wittes Pilgrimage |  |
Written to the right Honorable, and most iuditious Lord William Earle of Pembrooke that now is.
Looke Lord with those sharpe Eyes of thine, with which (though larely open)In seeing thou see'st the least ore sights old, new, or done, or spoken:
Looke on this Seale of simple Zeale, which though but courslie Carud,
Containes the Impresse of thy praise thy vertues haue deseru'd.
Truthes Hāds, VVealths Armes, VVits Eyes, Artes Tong, & wisedōs listning Eares
Preuent Times Course, yonge yeares, conceiuing, bring forth many yeares!
Faire featurd Soule! well-shapen Spright! in which subsisting bee,
Grace, Goodnesse, Glory: Three in one, and One including Three!
Grace, goodnesse giues, to Glory guides, such Guift, such Guide, such Glory
God gaue, you haue, yet hauing hold vnsure, to shunne Vaine-glorie.
More wise then all, most wise in this, knew Things had but their Course.
Who goes to Glory, Glorie shunes so shunes, so goes,, that yet
Uaine-glorie shund, true glorie gaind, may him in glorie sett.
Reade, Note, Search, Trie, Know, Show, Muse, Mount, aspird, againe descend;
The lower Soules sinck in themselues, the higher they ascend!
Tell mounting Witts thats too too light that Wisedome makes not weightie;
Tell Motion it is worse then madd whose Motors not Almightie.
Tel World its but the wayward Maze where Man is mazd and lost;
Tel State it stands on Airy Propps, by Stormes still turnd and tost.
Tel Wisedome shee is base if Shee mounts not aboue the Moone,
Tel Humors, and tell Humoristes, their Humors change too soone.
Tel Learning it is darke as Hell not mixt with light of Grace,
Tel Councell, and tell Councellors they oft mistake the Case.
Tel Bookes, though euer-blest some bee, yet are they but Informers,
Tel them they should more blessed bee if they were still Reformers.
Tel Artes they aske too much for Arte in asking all our time,
Tel Armes they do but worke their Harmes, by Armes, and Harmes that climbe,
Tel Earthlie Hopes they make vs seeke for that wee cannot finde,
Tel, tell Worlds-Blisse it wanteth force to breede true Blisse in Mynd.
Tel Sport it spoileth pretious Time, tell Time hees falslie true,
True in his Course, ins Custome false, away steales, yet pursues!
Tel Keasars (though they Cæsars are) their Nostrils Bound their breath;
Tel Life (though during like the Sunne) it subiect is to death.
Tel Wealth it wasts with earthlie Pompe, tell Pompe its but a Puffe,
Tel Glory shee must bide the girde of Enuies Counterbuff.
Tel, tel Fair-wordes, from fowle Mouthes sent, they feede, but fatten Fooles
Tel Friends true Frindshipps no where learnd but in true Vertues Schooles.
Tel, Loue that Hee an Idoll is; found, forgd adord by Fancie,
Tel Flesh-enraging Lust shee is a Soule-confounding Frenzie:
Tel Fauours they are Copper-gilt, vncertaine true, if true:
Tel Fooles when Shadowes come before, their Substance nill ensue.
Tel Lookes, where Loue in Triumph Tilts against vnfenced Eyes,
They Lookes alure, by Lookes like Lures, which seeme true, yet are lies.
Tel All that al is (al in All] beneath the Heaunly Coape,
A Dreame, a Shade, a toile of Spirite, a base betraying hope.
And lastlie tel thy Thoughts [sweet Lord] they in an Harr must rest
That Honor holds for Life, and liues to dy ere dispossest.
Here Sus Mineruam maist thou say, its true; yet say not so,
Because it comes from him that liues to dy vpon thy Foe.
I. D.
Deus, ad quæ nos tempora reseruasti? Policarpus.
| Wittes Pilgrimage | |