 | Poems Divine, and Humane |  |
Ad punctum mortis.
If this houre doe the businesse of my ageFor being borne I must resolve to dye,
With what delight can I supply the stage,
Mirth cannot suite well with a Tragedy;
Leave me delight, and let my sorrowes tell
Ægypt's the way to Canaan, what though here
The Pharaoh's of the time did me oppose,
Yet thy deliverance shall protect me there,
The greatest discord have the sweetest close;
Let my assurance here my joyes expresse,
That's the good land, this but the Wildernesse.
Onyons and Garlicke, and the flesh-pots too,
Let them desire that have a list to eate,
My pallat cannot rellish what they doe,
Manna, my God, I know is Angels meate;
But if this place affords it not to me,
Take me to Canaan since it is with thee.
Art thou not beauty Lord, to whom the Sunne,
At height of glory is so darke a blot,
That when thou didst obscure thy blessed Sonne
The other had his wonted light forgot.
Yet in that blest Ecclipse, this turn'd such light
That earth saw heaven, though heaven was hid in night
| Poems Divine, and Humane | |