Prison-Pietie or, Meditations Divine and Moral. Digested into Poetical Heads, On Mixt and Various Subjects. Whereunto is added A Panegyrick to The Right Reverend, and most Nobly descended, Henry, Lord Bishop of London. By Samuel Speed, Prisoner in Ludgate, London |
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On Beauty. |
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On Beauty.
Have you not heard o'th' bloody Siege of Troy?Of Hellens beauty how it did destroy?
The lustre of her Beauty did decay,
And she was but a glorious heap of Clay.
Or have you read of Jacob, how he serv'd
Full fourteen years for Rachel, never swerv'd
From his affections? She, his hearts delight,
Was amiable and lovely in his sight.
Thus we adore those whom we think excel
In Beauty, though a painted Jezebel.
If these deserve so much, then what doth he
That made these Beauties? he whose Majestie
Is altogether lovely, doth surpass
The glories of an indigested Mass.
The Beauty of the whole Creation is
As dross to him; for the Creation's his.
Be not discourag'd, oh my Soul, but place
Thy firm affections on thy Saviour's face.
Though Enemies may watch for thy defaults,
Christ can secure thee from their fierce assaults.
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And thou shalt live, although thou seemst to die.
Be not dsheartned, oh my Soul; for though
Rules may be strict and Duties hard, yet know
They are as Armour 'gainst the worst disaster;
Heaven's thy Wages, Christ himself thy Master.
Lord, let my heart thy Beauty understand,
No difficulty then shall reach my hand.
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