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 Memory. |
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25
On Memory.
Memory is the Store-house of the Soul;The Will's Dictator; Understanding's Scroul.
There we hoard up the treasures of our Minde,
And fetch them out as we occasion finde.
But well it may with filthy Ponds compare,
Wherein fish die, but frogs are nourish'd there.
So we retain trash that doth sowre and rot,
Whilst admirable mercies are forgot.
Thus we that should be Temples of God's praise,
Are Graves to bury what his love displays.
All Injuries most men to Marble trust,
But Courtesies are written in the Dust.
What's bad they can sufficiently retain,
But what is good is idle thought, and vain.
Like Nets, our Memories let clear waters go,
And nothing catch but sticks and weeds of Wo:
Or else like Sieves (so rashly are we born)
That do retain the Chaff, let go the Corn.
But like an holy Ark the Soul should be,
And as the pot of Manna, Memorie.
Our faculties herein need no excuse,
Preserving holy Truths for holy use.
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