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 Dives. |
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On Dives.
See with what splendor Dives sits at mear,With choice of Dainties, courting him to eat.
His Habit Purple, and his Linnen fine,
As if drest up on purpose here to dine.
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There's too much store provided for one day:
How many wretched Souls do beg for Bread,
Whilst this same Glutton hath his Table spread
With all varieties? And thus they show
Their envy: But alas, did they but know,
And well consider what his wants are, then
They'd pity him, as if the worst of men.
His Talent's rich: on earth there's none above it;
But he wants Grace and Wisdom to improve it.
All his Estate is but a mighty spoil;
He hath a Lamp, but that Lamp hath no Oyl.
He hath a Soul, but what doth that embrace?
Vain worldly Lusts; the opposites to Grace.
His House shines gloriously; but when all's done,
He hath the Star-light, but he wants the Sun.
A Friend to Vice, and Vertue's mortal hater;
Having the Creature, but not the Creator.
This world's a Torrent of false Joys; the boat
Is his vain life, doth on it dayly float.
His Silver Anchor is as weak as Sand;
Nor can his Gold conduct him safe to Land,
But rather sink him to the Misers Cell,
There to inhabit where damn'd Spirits dwell.
Can he be worth your envy then? forbear,
Rather in pity shed a Christian tear.
If he be happy, May it be thy will,
O Lord, that I be miserable still.
Give me thy Grace, although I'm clad in Rags;
Let Vice attend the Miser and his Bags.
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