Emblems With elegant figures newly published. By J. H. [i.e. John Hall] |
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 | Emblems With elegant figures |  |
57
[I faint, I faint: these channels here]
Oh thou fountain of life, let my thirsting soul drink of Thee.
Aug. Med. cap. 37.
I faint, I faint: these channels here
Though they seem Crystall, run not clear;
What nasty heaps of rubbish lie
Within these waves? I die; I die;
How bitter are they? poysons be
Though fiercest, not so harsh as they:
Yet have I drunk; but now a more
Heat bake's my bowells then before.
Oh! what an Ætna hath posse'st
The feeble ruines of my breast?
How't fall's to cindars? how I have
My bosom turn'd into my grave!
Go, go, my former loves! I will
No more your false embraces fill.
Weave robes of short liv'd Roses set,
Lilly's in bands of Violet:
Rare clouds of Myrrhe, that none may press
To view your secret wantonness.
Such fumes but choak me; nor have I
Leisure to wanton ere I die.
See how I breath out ashes. 'Las!
Doe's there no silver rillet pass
That may asswage? would heaven bestow
One welcome drop to cool me now!
Oh for a Moses that would make
This rock of mine dissolve and break,
To a clear stream where I might lie
Exempt from all this misery,
And bathe. Oh would some Angel sit
And point me to a welcom pit.
Thou spring of life run over me
Thou center of eternitie,
Enlive me once again, and show
What thy unbounded power can do.
Do but direct me and Ile flie
Where all thy liquid treasures lie;
More then may drench whole worlds; and bless
Them with their quickning delugies
When I have setled there, oh then
I shall not know to thirst agen.
Though they seem Crystall, run not clear;
What nasty heaps of rubbish lie
Within these waves? I die; I die;
How bitter are they? poysons be
Though fiercest, not so harsh as they:
Yet have I drunk; but now a more
Heat bake's my bowells then before.
Oh! what an Ætna hath posse'st
The feeble ruines of my breast?
How't fall's to cindars? how I have
My bosom turn'd into my grave!
Go, go, my former loves! I will
No more your false embraces fill.
Weave robes of short liv'd Roses set,
Lilly's in bands of Violet:
Rare clouds of Myrrhe, that none may press
To view your secret wantonness.
Such fumes but choak me; nor have I
Leisure to wanton ere I die.
See how I breath out ashes. 'Las!
Doe's there no silver rillet pass
That may asswage? would heaven bestow
One welcome drop to cool me now!
Oh for a Moses that would make
This rock of mine dissolve and break,
58
Exempt from all this misery,
And bathe. Oh would some Angel sit
And point me to a welcom pit.
Thou spring of life run over me
Thou center of eternitie,
Enlive me once again, and show
What thy unbounded power can do.
Do but direct me and Ile flie
Where all thy liquid treasures lie;
More then may drench whole worlds; and bless
Them with their quickning delugies
When I have setled there, oh then
I shall not know to thirst agen.
59
Epigram 15.
The living spring of life is cool; but yetDoth quench one, and beget a greater heat.
Still satisfie's; yet leave's a thirst behind
And is the sacred Bath and Spaw o'th' mind.
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