University of Virginia Library

XIII. JOHN III. XIX.

Men love darkness rather then light, because their deeds are evil.

Lord, when we leave the World and come to Thee,
How dull! how slugge are wee?
How backward! how praeposterous is the motion
Of our ungaine devotion!
Our thoughts are Milstones, and our soules are lead,
And our desires are dead:
Our vowes are fairely promised, faintly paid:
Or broken, or not made:
Our better worke (if any good) attends
Upon our private ends:
In whose performance one poore worldly scoffe
Foyles us, or beates us off:
If thy sharpe scourge finde out some secret fault,
Wee grumble, or revolt:
And thy gentle hand forbeare, wee stray,
Or idly loose the way:
Is the Roade faire? wee loyter: clogg'd with myre?
Wee sticke, or else retyre:
A Lambe appeares a Lyon; and we feare,
Each bush wee see's a Beare.
When our dull soules direct their thoughts to Thee,
The soft-pac'd Snayle is not so slow as wee:
But when at earth wee dart our wing'd desire,
We burne, we burne like fire:
Like as the am'rous needle joyes to bend
To her Magneticke Friend;
Or as the greedy Lovers eye-balls flye
At his faire Mistres eye,
So, so we cling to earth; wee fly, and puff,
Yet fly not fast enough;
If Pleasure becken with her balmey hand,
Her becke's a strong command;
If Honour call us with her courtly breath,
An hour's delay is death:
If profits golden fingerd Charmes enveigle's,
Wee clip more swift then Eagles.
Let Auster weep, or blustring Boreas rore
Till eyes or lungs be sore
Let Neptune swell untill his dropsie sides
Burst into broken Tides;
Nor threatning Rockes, nor windes. nor waves, nor Fyre
Can curbe our fierce desire;
Nor Fire nor Rocks can stop our furious mindes,
Nor waves, nor windes;
How fast and fearlesse doe our footsteps flee!
The lightfoot Roe-buck's not so swift as wee.

S. AUGUST. sup: Psal. 64.

Two severall Loves built two severall Cities; The love of God builds a Jerusalem; The love of the world builds a Babylon: Let every one enquire of himselfe what he loves, and hee shall resolve himselfe, of whence hee is a Citizen.

S. AUGUST. lib. 3. Confess.

All things are driven by their owne weight, and tend to their own Center: My weight is my love; By that I am driven, whithersoever I am driven.

EPIGRAM 13.

[Lord scourge my Asse if shee should make no hast]

Lord scourge my Asse if shee should make no hast,
And curbe my Stagge if hee should flee too fast:
If hee be over swift, or shee prove idle,
Let Love lend him a spurre: Feare, her, a Bridle.