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 |
 | I. |
| II. |
 | III, IV. |
|
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. | Chap. xl. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
|
|
|
 | Chap. xl. The poems of George Daniel |  |
XL. Chap. xl.
Oh, how is mankind wretched? Man, at first,
Fell, & in him, his Sons are all accurst;
From the sad Mother's Wombe, their houre of birth,
Till they fall to their Common Earth,
Their thoughts are fickle & their hearts impure,
Their fancies fruiteless, & their End vnsure;
From him who sitts vpon the golden Throne,
To him that lives obscure & dyes vnknowne;
From high'st to low'st; from him who beares ye Crowne
And sweieth the Scepter, Circled in renowne
Of brave atcheiuements, in a Robe of fine
And Costly Silke, thrice-dipt, to make it shine;
To the low Drudge, in rugged Canvas clad,
Who lives in sweat, for all the state he had.
Fell, & in him, his Sons are all accurst;
From the sad Mother's Wombe, their houre of birth,
Till they fall to their Common Earth,
Their thoughts are fickle & their hearts impure,
Their fancies fruiteless, & their End vnsure;
From him who sitts vpon the golden Throne,
To him that lives obscure & dyes vnknowne;
From high'st to low'st; from him who beares ye Crowne
And sweieth the Scepter, Circled in renowne
Of brave atcheiuements, in a Robe of fine
And Costly Silke, thrice-dipt, to make it shine;
To the low Drudge, in rugged Canvas clad,
Who lives in sweat, for all the state he had.
Wrath, envy, Trouble, Miserie, & Cares,
Dissention, Fury, & a Thousand Feares
Of Death & Dangers, follow humane state;
And Sleep addes more then it can mittigate:
For the vaine ffeares wee can by Day invent,
Wee see by Night; what horrid formes present
Themselves in Dreams! what numerous shapes arise
T' affright poore Mortalls! ah, how nothing is
Man's quiet here! when sleep, wch should be peace
And the Soule's Sanctuary, offers fresh
Obiects to his Distraction; warre & Death
Disturbe his restless Thoughts; till now, he hath
Plung'd his Imagination; Opes his Eyes,
And, all in safety, doth his Dreame despise;
These to all flesh, both Man, & Beast, but all
These plagves redoubled, vpon Sinners fall;
Strife, Blood, & Death, shall rage where they abide.
The Sword shall reake in Murder by their side;
Oppression, famine, & Destruction, theirs,
And punishment shall follow in their heirs;
Thus shall the Wicked suffer, as from first
It was ordain'd; for them the World was Curst
In the sad deluge, and the Earth, which stood
Once blest by Heaven, lay pickled in a flood;
All things of Earth shall turne to Earth againe,
And all of Water, to th' insatiate Maine.
Dissention, Fury, & a Thousand Feares
Of Death & Dangers, follow humane state;
And Sleep addes more then it can mittigate:
For the vaine ffeares wee can by Day invent,
Wee see by Night; what horrid formes present
87
T' affright poore Mortalls! ah, how nothing is
Man's quiet here! when sleep, wch should be peace
And the Soule's Sanctuary, offers fresh
Obiects to his Distraction; warre & Death
Disturbe his restless Thoughts; till now, he hath
Plung'd his Imagination; Opes his Eyes,
And, all in safety, doth his Dreame despise;
These to all flesh, both Man, & Beast, but all
These plagves redoubled, vpon Sinners fall;
Strife, Blood, & Death, shall rage where they abide.
The Sword shall reake in Murder by their side;
Oppression, famine, & Destruction, theirs,
And punishment shall follow in their heirs;
Thus shall the Wicked suffer, as from first
It was ordain'd; for them the World was Curst
In the sad deluge, and the Earth, which stood
Once blest by Heaven, lay pickled in a flood;
All things of Earth shall turne to Earth againe,
And all of Water, to th' insatiate Maine.
Iniustice shall not flourish, nor the gaine
Of vsurie, a Treasure, still remaine;
But Truth & Iustice, ever these shall Shine,
A Death-less honour, and a Wreath Devine.
The Wealth of Sinners, as a brooke shall Drie,
As Thunder in a raine the Noise shall flye.
Ioy crownes the Giver, heaven doth bless his store,
But the Oppressor shall live ever Poore;
His Children shall but heir him; vnto them
Shall be noe Sons, t' inherite in his Name;
But as a worthless Root vpon a Rocke
Dyes, without Blossomes, wasteth in the Stocke:
Early the Spring, & in her greatest Pride
Boasteth her verdure, by a River Side;
Yet there she Suffers first, & when, now greene,
They fall away, as had they never beene.
Of vsurie, a Treasure, still remaine;
But Truth & Iustice, ever these shall Shine,
A Death-less honour, and a Wreath Devine.
The Wealth of Sinners, as a brooke shall Drie,
As Thunder in a raine the Noise shall flye.
Ioy crownes the Giver, heaven doth bless his store,
But the Oppressor shall live ever Poore;
His Children shall but heir him; vnto them
88
But as a worthless Root vpon a Rocke
Dyes, without Blossomes, wasteth in the Stocke:
Early the Spring, & in her greatest Pride
Boasteth her verdure, by a River Side;
Yet there she Suffers first, & when, now greene,
They fall away, as had they never beene.
Love, as a Garden water'd by heaven's hand,
And Mercy, shall for ever glorious stand.
To Ioy in Sweat is happines, but more,
To live vntroubled in an Ample Store.
Children, or Cittyes built, may keep a Name,
But a good Woeman, much excelleth them.
Wine glads the heart, & Musick stirrs the Spright,
But Wisedome gives more Ioy & more Delight.
The Pipe & Psalterie may please the Sence,
But a sweet Tongve is of more Excellence;
Beautie & Feature, may the Eye-sight please,
But a green Corne-feild, more then either these.
A freind is good, and a Companion,
Sometimes may please, but to a Wife is none
In trouble; Freinds & Help are of availe,
But Almes deliver, when these often faile.
What Cannot Gold or Silver? Yet 'bove them
Is Councell, in the Godly Man's Esteeme;
Riches & Strength may please vs, but ye feare
Of God transports vs to a higher Sphere.
Wee ioy in fullnes, & Subsist in might,
Nothing then it more Faire, nothing more sweet.
And Mercy, shall for ever glorious stand.
To Ioy in Sweat is happines, but more,
To live vntroubled in an Ample Store.
Children, or Cittyes built, may keep a Name,
But a good Woeman, much excelleth them.
Wine glads the heart, & Musick stirrs the Spright,
But Wisedome gives more Ioy & more Delight.
The Pipe & Psalterie may please the Sence,
But a sweet Tongve is of more Excellence;
Beautie & Feature, may the Eye-sight please,
But a green Corne-feild, more then either these.
A freind is good, and a Companion,
Sometimes may please, but to a Wife is none
In trouble; Freinds & Help are of availe,
But Almes deliver, when these often faile.
What Cannot Gold or Silver? Yet 'bove them
Is Councell, in the Godly Man's Esteeme;
Riches & Strength may please vs, but ye feare
Of God transports vs to a higher Sphere.
Wee ioy in fullnes, & Subsist in might,
Nothing then it more Faire, nothing more sweet.
89
My son! oh, never let thy Sloth betraye
Thy fortunes vnto want or beggerye;
Better to Dye then Beg; how truly can
His Life be call'd a Life, or he a Man,
Whose being is not in him but depends
Vpon the Charitie of a few freinds?
Another's Table feeds him, & the heat
Of Appetite oft rageth for his Meat;
This will a Wise Man shun, & rather strive,
In his owne Sweat, to gaine him how to live;
Only the Impudent finds pleasure in
Begging, & makes Povertie his Sin;
To live in Cōmon, & with Blush-les face,
Importune Pittye tell his owne hard Case
To Every Eare; but begging cannot serve;
Where Begging is, Men for food may sterve.
Thy fortunes vnto want or beggerye;
Better to Dye then Beg; how truly can
His Life be call'd a Life, or he a Man,
Whose being is not in him but depends
Vpon the Charitie of a few freinds?
Another's Table feeds him, & the heat
Of Appetite oft rageth for his Meat;
This will a Wise Man shun, & rather strive,
In his owne Sweat, to gaine him how to live;
Only the Impudent finds pleasure in
Begging, & makes Povertie his Sin;
To live in Cōmon, & with Blush-les face,
Importune Pittye tell his owne hard Case
To Every Eare; but begging cannot serve;
Where Begging is, Men for food may sterve.
| Chap. xl. The poems of George Daniel | |