 | Miscellaneous works of George Wither |  |
SONG.
My
Soul, come listen to my Charms:
And, now she rests betwixt mine arms,
Sound out, yee everlasting Spheres,
That Musick, which no mortall hears:
And, whilst thereto, my Tongue forth sings
Those calm, and blessed Requiems,
Which, this depraved World contemns,
Thy self, my discomposed heart,
New-tune (in Consort) to bear part,
With them, upon her quav'ring strings.
And, now she rests betwixt mine arms,
Sound out, yee everlasting Spheres,
That Musick, which no mortall hears:
And, whilst thereto, my Tongue forth sings
Those calm, and blessed Requiems,
Which, this depraved World contemns,
Thy self, my discomposed heart,
New-tune (in Consort) to bear part,
With them, upon her quav'ring strings.
Though all things in confusion be;
Though, from corruption none are free,
Why should our Bowels yerne, or pant?
What need we fear? What can we want,
Which we, by reason, would enjoy?
No rising, or declining Star,
Our blisse, can either make, or mar;
No influence, of Moon or Sun,
Or, ought omitted, or misdone,
Our peace, or safety, can destroy.
Though, from corruption none are free,
Why should our Bowels yerne, or pant?
What need we fear? What can we want,
Which we, by reason, would enjoy?
No rising, or declining Star,
Our blisse, can either make, or mar;
No influence, of Moon or Sun,
Or, ought omitted, or misdone,
Our peace, or safety, can destroy.
23
Look up, to that bespangled Skie,
So bright, so spacious, and so high:
A higher Orbe, those Orbes contains,
Where my Redeemer, lives and reigns;
To him, by contemplation, mount,
By him, Hopes Anchor, cast, and weigh;
On him, by Faith, firm holdfast lay;
With him, by Love, thy self unite;
Through him, establish thy delight;
And, of him, make thy chief account.
So bright, so spacious, and so high:
A higher Orbe, those Orbes contains,
Where my Redeemer, lives and reigns;
To him, by contemplation, mount,
By him, Hopes Anchor, cast, and weigh;
On him, by Faith, firm holdfast lay;
With him, by Love, thy self unite;
Through him, establish thy delight;
And, of him, make thy chief account.
Then, from that height, thine eyes down cast,
On all things, which on Earth are plac't;
(Ev'n on the bravest of those things,
Which are the pride, and joy of Kings)
And, on those Bugbears, which men dread:
And, when thou findest, what they prove,
(How worthless of thy Fear, or Love)
Thou may'st, with confident repose,
Ly down, alone, where all thy Foes,
Their Banners, have against thee spread.
On all things, which on Earth are plac't;
(Ev'n on the bravest of those things,
Which are the pride, and joy of Kings)
And, on those Bugbears, which men dread:
And, when thou findest, what they prove,
(How worthless of thy Fear, or Love)
Thou may'st, with confident repose,
Ly down, alone, where all thy Foes,
Their Banners, have against thee spread.
Sleep, then; for, all, those windes that blow,
And bluster round about thee so,
Into a calm, will either turn,
Or, breath away, at last, with scorne,
And, prove but puffs, to be despis'd.
Sleep; for, those goodly seeming Gaudes,
Which thou admired'st, are but shades,
That, in a moment, will be gone,
And, worthy, really, of none,
But, Fools, or Madmen, to be priz'd.
And bluster round about thee so,
Into a calm, will either turn,
Or, breath away, at last, with scorne,
And, prove but puffs, to be despis'd.
Sleep; for, those goodly seeming Gaudes,
Which thou admired'st, are but shades,
That, in a moment, will be gone,
And, worthy, really, of none,
But, Fools, or Madmen, to be priz'd.
24
Sleep; for, those earnest Longings, which
Disturb'd thy Rest, are but an Itch,
Or, Dreamings, that will take their flight,
As soon as Day removes the Night,
Though, much account of them thou mak'st.
Sleep; for thou neither feel'st, nor hear'st,
Such Bears, or Lions, as thou fearst;
They are but squeekings of small Mice,
Or, niblings, of those Fleas, and Lice,
Wch, will fall from thee, when thou wak'st.
Disturb'd thy Rest, are but an Itch,
Or, Dreamings, that will take their flight,
As soon as Day removes the Night,
Though, much account of them thou mak'st.
Sleep; for thou neither feel'st, nor hear'st,
Such Bears, or Lions, as thou fearst;
They are but squeekings of small Mice,
Or, niblings, of those Fleas, and Lice,
Wch, will fall from thee, when thou wak'st.
And, you, who have disturbers bin,
Of Rest, without me, or within,
Submit your selves to due controll:
And, when, on my retired soul,
A sweet refreshing sleep, shall seize,
I, charge you, by the Pow'r of those
Who guard th'Elected from their Foes,
(On penalty, of whatsoe're
The damn'd Infernall Spirits fear)
That, her, you wake not, till she please.
Of Rest, without me, or within,
Submit your selves to due controll:
And, when, on my retired soul,
A sweet refreshing sleep, shall seize,
I, charge you, by the Pow'r of those
Who guard th'Elected from their Foes,
(On penalty, of whatsoe're
The damn'd Infernall Spirits fear)
That, her, you wake not, till she please.
Give ear, oh, regardfully give ear
What is timelie here expressed relating to this Generation.
What is timelie here expressed relating to this Generation.
| Miscellaneous works of George Wither | |