Wittes Pilgrimage (by Poeticall Essaies): Through a VVorld of amorous Sonnets, Soule-passions, and other Passages, Diuine, Philosophicall, Morall, Poeticall, and Politicall. By Iohn Davies |
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Respice finem.
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 | Wittes Pilgrimage |  |
Respice finem.
When as I heare Times sober Tongue (the Clock)Call on me eu'rie howre to minde mine end.
It strikes ny hart with feare at eu'rie stroke
Because so ill Time, Life, and Breath I spend.
Then straight resolue I, to bestow them all
Vpon that Lord of all, that gaue them mee
When lo, the World vpon mee straight doth call
Twixt these two Calls I parted am in twaine:
The first my Spirit, the last my Flesh attends:
So twixt them two my pleasure is but paine:
For each the other euermore offends.
Sin tenders me al Ioyes, that rauish Sence,
And Sense doth pine if from Them It be held:
Grace offers Ioyes of much more excellence,
And faine my Spirit would with Them be fild.
But in fraile Flesh Sense such a Cæsar is
That It Commands it to withstand the Sprit,
While it doth feed the Flesh with Earthly Blisse:
And so, my Sprite is vext with that delight.
Thus, while I am distracted in desire
Time (in his Language, after some Howrs pawse)
Tels me he flies, and bids me to retire
Before Confusion catch me in his iawes.
O Time (that thus endeerst me to thy loue)
I constantly adore thy ficklnesse,
That neuer mou'st, but dost my Sences moue
To mind thy flight, and this lifes trickelnesse.
O that I could make thee Æternity!
And honor thee, for this, vvith state diuine
That with the God of Glory, thou and I
Might, like the Sun and Moone, for euer shine!
Teach me, ô learned long-experienc'd Time
To glorifie thee with some heaunly Art,
Whose humble Muse would to thy Temples climb
To Lawrel-Crowne them, ere from Thee I part.
O let me be the Triton of thy praise:
Teach me to Trumpet foorth thyne Excellence:
Let me [though most vnworthy] grace thy Dayes
With all that may delight Intelligence.
Let me by thee [deer Time] be brought to Death
Ere I abuse thee in the least degree.
For, he wins Blisse that doth but lose his Breath
To be still found, from Times Abuses free.
Then now, ô now, (sith novv my Daies decline)
Let me this Moment enter in the Way
Of Vertue, Grace, and holy Discipline,
And being in, thence, let me neuer straie
Procrastination doth but Plagues protract,
Then, Time with Plagues my wayward Will Coact
To turne to Grace, ere my subuersion.
Let it suffice that I haue thee abusd
Since I was borne, in Wrongs not to be borne:
Then be thou, by me, hence foorth rightly vsd,
Or let me, by Thee, die, or liue forlorne:
For, I am wery, now of wronging Thee,
Then let me flee from Vice as thou dost Flee.
| Wittes Pilgrimage | |