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Odes In Imitation of the Seaven Penitential Psalmes

with Sundry other Poemes and ditties tending to deuotion and pietie [by Richard Rowlands]

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A SECONDARY exposition.
 
 
 
 

A SECONDARY exposition.

The contemplation of the mistery,
Of the subiected state of heauens king,
And the reuyual of the memory,
That three tymes thryce a day the bel doth ring,
Leades downe my muse from height I earst began,
Vnto the lownesse of the lyf of man.
First how in darcknes of self-knowing-state,
And as yf all foregoing tyme were night,
VVee enter in at this worldes cumbrous gate,
As doth the day new dawning with his light,
And that first treasure Tyme on vs bestowes,
In chyldish thinges vnwittingly wee lose.

103

Thence grow wee vp as do the howres of day,
Our dayes and yeares outrunning youthful rage,
From all repose Tyme carrying vs away,
Doth vnaware draw on our midle age,
And through his haste wil vs no leasure lend,
Once back to turne, youths errors to amend.
At noontyde of our dayes wee do arryue,
As doth the Sun at midday in his height,
VVhat tyme the bel a second sound doth giue,
To moue remembrance of the heauy waight,
Of sinnes huge burthen when high heauens grace,
In humaine flesh released humaine race.
The midday tyme, hath but the name of tyme,
For tyme himself no moment hath of stay,
Nor wee repose before or after pryme,
But as the Sun declyneth with the day,
So we declyne euen at our highest rate,
Changing with tyme the change of our estate.
Eftsoones drawes on the euentyde of our yeares,
As doth the Sun draw downward to the west,
VVhat tyme the bel reneweth to our eares,
The sound of ioy now twyce before exprest,
To shew how in the worldes declyning ease,
Attendant hope obtayn'd expected grace.
Now of our lyf is come the better parte,
And of our labors frute to reap the gaine,
Yf youthes endeuours wrought our wel desart,
Or yf in lyf so long wee do remaine,
For from the tree where wee behold the bud,
Much frute falles downe ere it bee rype and good.

104

Lastly as day, our dayes their ending take,
And as before from darcknight wee arose,
Our day our nightes returne againe doth make,
And wee yeild vp vnto our last repose,
Our claime to earth, and all that nature gaue,
And lay vs downe where death shal dig our graue.