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

But stay my Soul! What Language does appear?
Am I deceiv'd? Or did I seem to hear?
Which Tenet shall I baulk? And which embrace?
Hath Truth like Janus, got a double Face?
Did not that Voice, that voted Wisdom vain
But very now, now cry it up again?
Shall what was late condemn'd as a Disease,
Now prove a Remedy? Such Slips as these
Are Brands of human Frailty, which belong
To us and ours; it well beseems our Tongue
To contradict and jangle: Error's known
By many Faces; Truth admits but one:
How haps it then, that Wisdom, whose Increase
Adds to our Grief, yet crowns our Days with Peace?

Be not deceiv'd, my Soul; let not one Name
Confound two Natures, and make two the same:
Shall Names give Natures? Dare thy Tongue profess
An equal Priviledge to curse and bless
For one Name's Sake? No, my deluded Soul,
Sooner may Light and Darkness, fair and foul,

Sooner may Good and Ill, nay, Heav'n and Hell,
May sooner startle from their Parallel,
And turn Joint-tenants in one perfect Line,
Than these two Wisdoms, human and divine.

That breeds a Tumour in the flatuous Breast;
This lays it: that brings Trouble, and this, Rest:
That kindles Fires, and those Fires increase
To Self-contention; this concludes a Peace:
That dulls the Thoughts, supprest with low Desires;
This mounts thy Soul with more heroick Fires:
That cannot brook the transitory Frown
Of Fortunes Brow; this makes a Cross a Crown:
That fills thy Hopes with Froth, and blurs thy Youth
With black-mouth'd Error; this directs to Truth:
That scorns Advice, and like an own-self Lover
Befools thee; but this honours the Reprover:
That fears, and flees, or falls at every Breath
Of Discontent; this triumphs, e'en in Death:
That breaks Relations, and for private Ends,
Dissolves Allegiance, and disbands true Friends;
This loves Society, calls not mine, but ours,
Yields due Obedience to superior Pow'rs:
That prickt by Passion rushes into Crimes;
This backt with Reason counsels with the Times:
That gives the Name of Power; this the thing:
That makes a Tyrant; this creates a King:
That lights thy Honour, fading like a Blaze;
This crowns thy Name with everlasting Days:
That breeds a Serpent; this brings forth a Dove:
That works a servile Fear; this filial Love:
That deads thy Spirit; this makes thee wisely bold:
That scowres thy Brass; but this refines thy Gold:
That fills thy Feast with Cares; with Fears, thy Breast;
This makes thy Morsel a perpetual Feast:
That cools thy Palate, but inflames thy Fire;
This slakes thy Thirst, and satiates thy Desire.

O then, my Soul, correct that Flesh and Blood
That blinds thee so; and, like a gloomy Cloud,

Thus interposes, and obscurely flies
Betwixt the sacred Object, and thine Eyes:
Clear up, my Soul, and like the Eye of Day,
Chastise that peccant Darkness, and display
Those Mists of Earth, which like false Glasses shew
Fanatick Figures, and present thy View
With specious Objects, precious in Esteem,
(Alas) but nothing less, than what they seem.

Then shall the Wisdom of the scarlet Whore
And all her bald-pate Panders, painted o'er
With counterfeited Holiness, appear
In her true Colours, so that every Ear
That hears her base Impostures, and the Fame
Of her lewd Piety, shall abhor the Name
Of bloody Rome: Then shall the spotted Beast
Put off her golden Trappings; and undrest
Of all her Glory, be turn'd out to graze
In uncouth Deserts, and consume her Days
With Dragons, Tigers, and those salvage things,
Now pamper'd with the Blood of Saints and Kings.
O then the crooked Paths of Error, Fraud,
And Candle-light Devotion, trim'd and straw'd
With sweet-lipt Roses, shall appear as plain,
As Tide-forsaken Rocks along the Main.
Then shall true Wisdom, like fair Sheba's Queen,
Begin her royal Progress, and now seen
In perfect Beauty, shall erect her Throne
In every Breast, and every Solomon
Shall court her Glory, and intranc'd in pleasure,
Shall smell her Spices, and divide her Treasure.