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The Poems of Thomas Pestell

Edited with an account of his life and work by Hannah Buchan

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On Ascension Day
  
  
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On Ascension Day

[Io: Bea:
Yee yt to starrs direct your curious Eyes
And send your mindes, to walke ye spatious skyes
See how ye maker, to your selues, you bring[es]
Who fixt his highest steps in humble thinges
And hauing man aboue ye Angells plact
The lowly earth more then the heauen hath gract
Poore clay, each creature thy degree admires
ffirst god in thee a liuinge soule inspires
Whose ghostly beames, haue made thee farr more bright
Then is ye sunn, ye spring of corp'rall light
Hee restes not here, but to himselfe thee takes
And thee deuine by wondrous vnyon makes
Where shall wee then finde out a worthy place
ffor his exalted flesh? heauen is too base:

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Hee [scarce] would touch it in his swift ascent
The orbes flee backe (like jordan) as hee went
And yet hee daignd to spend some yeares on earth,
As payinge thankfull trybute for his birth
But now his body, all godes workes excells
And hath not place but god in whom it dwells]