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The poetical works of Thomas Traherne

faithfully reprinted from the author's original manuscript together with Poems of Felicity reprinted from the Burney manuscript and Poems from Various Sources: Edited with preface and notes by Gladys I. Wade

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The Person.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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The Person.

Ye sacred Limbs,
A richer Blazon I will lay
On you, than first I found:
That, like Celestial Kings,
Ye might with Ornaments of Joy
Be always crown'd.
A deep Vermilion on a Red,
On that a Scarlet, I will lay;
With Gold I'll crown your Head,
Which like the Sun shall ray:
With Robes of Glory and Delight
I'll make you bright.
Mistake me not: I do not mean to bring
New Robes, but to display the thing;

175

Nor paint, nor cloath, nor crown, nor add a Ray;
But glorify by taking all away.
The Naked Things
Are most sublime, and brightest shew,
When they alone are seen:
Mens Hands than Angels Wings
Are truer Wealth, tho here below;
For those but seem.
Their Worth they then do best reveal
When we all Metaphors remov;
For, Metaphors conceal,
And only Vapors prov.
They best are blazon'd when we see
Th' Anatomy,
Survey the Skin, cut up the Flesh, the Veins
Unfold; the Glory there remains:
The Muscles, Fibres, Arteries, and Bones,
Are better far than Artificial Stones.
Shall I not then
Delight in this most Sacred Treasure,
Which my Great Father gave,
Far more than other men
Delight in Plate? Since these do pleasure
And make us brave!
Much braver than the Pearls and Gold
That glitter on a Lady's Neck.
The Rubies we behold,
The Diamonds that deck
The Hands of Queens, compar'd unto
The Limbs we view;
The whitest Lillies, blushing Roses, are
Lest Ornaments to those that wear
The same, than are the Hands, and Lips, and Eys
Of them who those false Ornaments so prize.

176

Let Verity
Be thy Delight: Let me esteem
Tru Wealth far more than Toys:
Let Sacred Riches be,
While the fictitious only seem,
My Reall Joys:
For Golden Chains and Bracelets are
But gilded Manacles, wherby
Old Satan doth ensnare,
Allure, bewitch the Ey.
Thy Gifts, O God, alone I'll prize,
My Tongue, my Eys,
My Cheeks, my Lips, mine Ears, my Hands, my Feet;
Their Harmony is far more sweet,
Their Beauty tru. And these, in all my Ways,
Shall be the Themes and Organs of thy Prais.