Solomon's recantation :: :: University of Virginia Library

Solomon's recantation

Intituled Ecclesiastes, paraphras'd. With A Soliloquy or Meditation Upon Every Chapter. By Francis Quarles

Quarles, Francis (1592-1644)

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Solomon's Recantation,

II.

III.

IV.

CHAP V.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

XII.

XII.

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CHAP V.

Vanities in divine Service, in murmuring against Oppression, and in Riches. Joy in Riches is the Gift of God.

Attend thy Foot-steps when thou drawest near
The House of God; and be more apt to hear,
Than give the Sacrifice of Fools, which know
Not in their Sacrifice what Ill they do:
Let not thy Tongue be rash, commit no Waste
Of Words before thy God by over haste;
Since he from Heav'n beholds thy Actions here,
All lavish Babling let thy Lips forbare:
As Dreams and rest-disturbing Fancies flow
From Floods of Business which by day we do;
So multitude of Words are daily sprung
From th'idle Fountain of a foolish Tongue.
When thou hast bound thee to thy God by Vow,
Defer not Payment, but perform it thou:
Discharge thy Bonds, for Heaven takes no Delight
In Fools, that violate the Faith they plight;
Far safer 'tis thy Vows were never made,
Then having promis'd Payment, never pay'd.
Let not thy Lips ensnare thee; plead not thou
Before thy Angel, 'twas too rash a Vow:
O why should'st thou provoke thy God, and dare
His Curse upon thy Practice, and thy Pray'r?
Dreams oft are vain, and Folly's mixt among
The Language of a multiloquious Tongue;
But let the Wisdom of thy Lips appear
Before thy God with reverential Fear.
Seest thou perverted Justice in the Land,
And poor Men grip'd beneath th'Oppressors Hand?

Stand not amaz'd: The Almighty views their Way,
And there be Powers at hand more high than they.
The fruitful Surface of the pregnant Soyl,
Enrich'd by the laborious Ploughman's Toyl,
Brings forth to all; nay, very Kings do build
Their whole Subsistence from the fertile Field:
'Tis not full Heaps of eye-rejoicing Gold
Can feed and screen thy Nakedness from Cold:
Nor can the Piles of treasur'd Wealth sustain
Thy drooping Spirits: This is also vain.
As Goods increase, e'en so their Number, who
Must share thy Goods increase, increaseth too:
What hath the Owner more than they, but this,
What they consume, his Eyes behold as his?
How sweetly pleasant is the Sleep of such
As labour, eat they little, or eat much?
When as the Wealth of idle Owners, keep
Their Heart from Quiet, and their Eyes from Sleep.
There is an Ill that happens now and then
Beneath the Sun, among the Sons of Men.
Oft have I seen increasing Riches grow
To be their great-made Owners Overthrow;
And vex their Souls with Care, and then repay
Unprosp'rous Pains with Grief, and melt away.
His Wealth is fled, and when he should transfer it
Upon his Heir, there's nothing to inherit.
Look how he came into the World, the same
He shall go out, as naked as he came;
Of what his lab'ring Arm hath brought about,
His dying Hand shall carry nothing out:
This is a wounding Grief, that as he came,
In ev'ry Point, he shall return the same:
What Profit can his Soul's Affliction find,
That toyls for Air, and travels but for Wind?
The Pilgrimage of his laborious Days,
Is sordid and obscure, and all his Ways
Are blockt with Troubles, and his Soul's disquiet,
To gain his very life-sustaining Diet.

I hold it therefore the most happy Lot,
To eat and drink, and reap what Pains hath got,
To crown those Days which his Creator gave;
'Tis all the Portion he is like to have:
All such to whom the bounteous Hand of Heav'n
Gives Wealth, and License to enjoy it given,
To sweeten Labour, may they understand,
It is a Favour from the Almighty's Hand:
Such, doubtless, in their Labour, shall forget
Their painful Sorrows, and their toylsome Sweat;
For Heav'n hath crown'd their fair Desires, and sent
A peaceful Conscience, and a pleas'd Content.

SOLILOQUY V.

But hark, my Soul, the morning Bells invite
Thy early Paces to a new Delight:
Away, away; the holy Saint's Bell rings,
Put on thy Robes, and oyl thy sacred Wings:
Call home thy Heart, and bid thy Thoughts surcease
To be thy Thoughts; go bind them to the Peace;
Take good Security, or if such fail,
Commit them to the all-commanding Jail
Of thy cramb'd Bags, there to lie close and fast,
Until thy heaven-atoning Vows be past:
Confine thy rambling Pleasures to the Trust
Of vacant Hours: And let thy Wisdom thrust
Indulgent Hagar, and her base-born Child
From thy sad Gates; let them be both exil'd
From thy soft Bosom; let not Ishmael share
With holy Isaac; Isaac must be Heir:
Nor let thy sorrow-melted Heart bemoan
Thy banish'd Bondslave, nor her thirsty Son:
Take thou no Care for them; Heav'n will supply
Their craving Thirst with Bottles from thine Eye:
Leave all thy servile Fancies in the Vale,
Mount thou the sacred Hill, and there, bewale,

Thy dying Isaac, whose free Gift may be
A living Pledge betwixt thy God and thee.
Here mayst thou feast thy Soul, and fill thy Breast
With heavenly Raptures, and with holy Rest.
Here shall thy Piety sweeten all thy Pains,
And Grace shall here replieve what Grief distrains:
Here mayst thou shrowd thee from those Ills that wait
Upon the Frailty of thy frail Estate.
Here may thy Griefs unbosome all their Groans,
And find Redress from the high Throne of Thrones.

Haste then; O hie thee to that sacred Place;
Why stay'st thou? See the widened Arms of Grace
Invite thy Presence, and with open Breast
Promise fair Welcome to so fair a Guest!

O but my zeal-transported Soul, take heed,
Too rash a Haste brings oft too dear a Speed:
Observe thy Steps; thy Feet are apt to slide,
If thy misguided Paces swerve aside,
Death waits at either Hand, to make a Prize
Of wavering Footsteps, and miswandring Eyes:
Near the best Blessings neighbouring Dangers dwell,
The very Suburbs of blest Heaven, is Hell.

Thus when thy awful Presence shall draw near
These hallalujous Courts, advise, and fear;
Put off thy Shoes; 'Tis holy Ground thou tread'st:
Be not too bold; thou di'st unless thou dread'st.

Now, may thy holy Boldness safely venture
To pass these delectable Ports, and enter.
Now cloath thy Heart with Reverence; be fill'd
With secret Raptures; let thy Fancy build
No Castles here; beware thou banish hence
The sinful Objects of invited Sense:
Make Heav'ns Command (and let thy zealous Motion
Subscribe to that) the Cause of thy Devotion:
Let Heav'ns Direction be thy Form, and bend
Thy endful Heart to make Heav'ns Glory th'End:
Worship that's moulded in Traditions Schools,
Is but the sensual Sacrifice of Fools.

Be wisely careful what thy Lips impart;
Bring thy soft Tongue acquainted with thy Heart:
Be slow to speak, and be as quick to hear;
Heaven loves a single Tongue, a double Ear.
Make haste to pay what thy vow'd Promise owes;
Destruction dwells in unperformed Vowes.

Thus mayst thou break the heart corroding Fangs
Of griping Care, and scape the dying Pangs
Of living Death: Here, here, thou mayst controul
Earths Power, and imparadise thy Soul
In soft and sacred Rest, beyond the Extent
Of whining Grief, and murmuring Discontent.

Ay, but my Soul, gross Vanity even dwells
In thy Devotion, whose rank Offering smells
So strong of Earth, that very Heavens deride
Our very Altars, and abhor the Pride
Of our disguis'd Humility, which brings
A secret Curse upon our holiest Things:

Hence, hence, my Soul, proceed those boystrous Waves
That plunge our Frailties: This, O this enslaves
Our craven'd Spirits so, that we e'en fail
Or shrink before the Combat, and turn tail
To every slight Affliction: This unlevels
Thy even-way'd Peace, with indigested Evils:
This sowers all thy Sweets, sads all thy Rest,
Nay disposesses thee, even whilst possest
Of thy imperious Treasure.—

O then, my Soul, where shall thy Wounds obtain
That sovereign Balsom? Who shall ease thy Pain?
In what blest Ear will thy Complaints find Place?
What holy Altar shall thy Arms embrace?
If here be no Protection for opprest
And labouring Souls, where shall poor Souls have Rest?
Earths Joys are vain, and they that shall commit
Trust in vain Earth, are far more vain than it.