Divine emblems Embellished with etchings on copper, after the fashion of Master Francis Quarles. Designed and written by, Johann Abricht [i.e. Jonathan Birch |
 |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. | EMBLEM VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
 | Divine emblems |  |
47
EMBLEM VII.
To every thing there is an appointed time.
ECCLES., chap. 3, v. 1.
[Avaunt thy hand!—my days fly so too fast!]
Avaunt thy hand!—my days fly so too fast!
Just now I've leisure to review the past—
Let go the Index! tell me, has fell spite
Embued thee?—so to hasten on the night.—
The Index, as the horologe, goes well,
No hour escapes unmark'd its loud-tongued bell.
I have not clogg'd the wheels, or staid its go;
But kept them fed with oil, and clean—altho'
I've often wish'd the pendulum might stand,
Without the aid of my too willing hand.
Scythe-man! forbear—the days of my existence
Are few enough, without thy sharp assistance!
Just now I've leisure to review the past—
Let go the Index! tell me, has fell spite
Embued thee?—so to hasten on the night.—
The Index, as the horologe, goes well,
No hour escapes unmark'd its loud-tongued bell.
I have not clogg'd the wheels, or staid its go;
But kept them fed with oil, and clean—altho'
I've often wish'd the pendulum might stand,
Without the aid of my too willing hand.
Scythe-man! forbear—the days of my existence
Are few enough, without thy sharp assistance!
48
—Thine oil has not been pure!—the wheels are clogg'd—
The pendulum's too slow—and must be jogg'd!
The works are sore disorder'd—and I trow
You've lived too fast—and it goes far too slow!
With Thee,—the hour of twelve has long since chimed
Yet here—the Index lags at six.
Lady.
—Ill-timed!
Time.
—Poor soul! I will but set the Meter right
That thou may'st truly know Time's rapid flight!
Thy constitution fails—thy death's begun!
Thy day is spent before the set of sun!
Lady.
—How lived too fast?—of what have I partook
Not drest by rules of culinary book?—
Did I e'er sip but of the costliest wine?—
Or e'er on couch less soft than down, recline?—
Have I lethargically gone to bed
Before the sun decampt—or night was sped?—
I ne'er exposed me to the evening's dew,
49
In mansion pleasures I have past the night
Nor rose—till Sol had gain'd meridian height!
Time.
—Thine oil has been impure!—thy knowledge frail
To think that sloth and lux'ries could avail
To foster health—thy system's morbid grown!
And hale hilarity—for ever flown:
Thy turbid blood flows at a drawling pace,
And Apoplexy stalks upon thy face!—
My mission's done!—poor soul! I must away
To meet the sun—and usher in the day!
Lady.
—While—yet awhile! Oh, tell me what to do!
Time.
—Reverse thy life—thy flitted hours review!
Div. Cup.
—Repent! whilst minutes last—thy hours are few.—
Hope still remains—here turn thy flooded eyes,
And trust --- time flies!
50
Luxury is an enticing pleasure, a bastard mirth, which hath honey in her mouth, gall in her heart, and a sting in her tail.
HUGO.
Mind ye how ye pass your hours, for life is the time of your probation—life is uncertain; therefore procrastinate not; what ye think is health ofttimes proves disease, and sickness ofttimes is your health.
ANON.
Woe unto you that laugh now! for ye shall mourn and weep.
LUKE, chap. 6, v. 25.
Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.
1 PETER, chap. 5, v. 8.
EPIG.
[Tho' fair to view—th'Asphal'tean fruit accurst!]
Tho' fair to view—th'Asphal'tean fruit accurst!Is cored with bitterness—and pulp'd with dust!
Hectic may heighten beauty—but the ruddy wealth
That blooms upon the country cheek—is Health.
| Divine emblems | |