 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | XII. |
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| XIV. |
| XV. |
| 2104. |
| 2105. |
| 2106. |
| 2107. |
| 2108. |
| 2109. |
| 2110. |
| 2111. |
| 2112. |
| 2113. |
| 2114. |
| 2115. |
| 2116. |
| 2117. |
| 2118. |
| 2119. |
| 2120. |
| 2121. |
| 2122. |
| 2123. |
| 2124. |
| 2125. |
| 2126. |
| 2127. |
| 2128. |
| 2129. |
| 2130. |
| 2131. |
| 2132. |
| 2133. |
| 2134. |
| 2135. |
| 2136. |
| 2137. |
| 2138. |
| 2139. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
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| XIII. |
 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
THE COLLAR.
From the same.
No more, I cried, shall grief be mine,
I will throw off the load;
No longer weep, and sigh, and pine
To find an absent God.
I will throw off the load;
No longer weep, and sigh, and pine
To find an absent God.
Free as the Muse, my wishes move,
Through Nature's wilds they roam:
Loose as the wind, ye wanderers, rove,
And bring me pleasure home!
Through Nature's wilds they roam:
Loose as the wind, ye wanderers, rove,
And bring me pleasure home!
39
Still shall I urge, with endless toil,
Yet not obtain my suit?
Still shall I plant the' ungrateful soil,
Yet never taste the fruit?
Yet not obtain my suit?
Still shall I plant the' ungrateful soil,
Yet never taste the fruit?
Not so, my heart!—for fruit there is:
Seize it with eager haste;
Riot in joys, dissolve in bliss,
And pamper every taste.
Seize it with eager haste;
Riot in joys, dissolve in bliss,
And pamper every taste.
On right and wrong thy thoughts no more
In cold dispute employ;
Forsake thy cell, the bounds pass o'er,
And give a loose to joy.
In cold dispute employ;
Forsake thy cell, the bounds pass o'er,
And give a loose to joy.
Conscience and Reason's power deride,
Let stronger Nature draw;
Self be thy end, and Sense thy guide,
And Appetite thy law.
Let stronger Nature draw;
Self be thy end, and Sense thy guide,
And Appetite thy law.
Away, ye shades, while light I rise,
I tread you all beneath!
Grasp the dear hours my youth supplies,
Nor idly dream of death.
I tread you all beneath!
Grasp the dear hours my youth supplies,
Nor idly dream of death.
Whoe'er enslaved to grief and pain,
Yet starts from pleasure's road,
Still let him weep, and still complain,
And sink beneath his load.—
Yet starts from pleasure's road,
Still let him weep, and still complain,
And sink beneath his load.—
But as I raved, and grew more wild
And fierce at every word,
Methought I heard One calling, “Child!”
And I replied, “My Lord!”
And fierce at every word,
Methought I heard One calling, “Child!”
And I replied, “My Lord!”
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |