Illvstr. XLIV.
[The painfull Husbandman, with sweaty browes]
The Husbandman, doth sowthe Seeds;
And, then, on Hope, till Harvest, feeds.
The painfull Husbandman, with sweaty browes,
Consumes in labour many a weary day:
To breake the stubborne earth, he digs and ploughes,
And, then, the Corne, he scatters on the clay:
When that is done, he harrowes in the Seeds,
And, by a well-cleans'd Furrow, layes it drye:
He, frees it from the Wormes, the Moles, the Weeds;
He, on the Fences, also hath an eye.
And, though he see the chilling Winter, bring
Snowes, Flouds, and Frosts, his Labours to annoy;
Though blasting-windes doe nip them in the Spring,
And, Summers Meldewes, threaten to destroy:
Yea, though not onely Dayes, but Weekes, they are
(Nay, many Weekes, and, many Moneths beside)
In which he must with payne, prolong his care,
Yet, constant in his hopes he doth abide.
For this respect, Hope's Emblem, here, you see
Attends the Plough, that men beholding it,
May be instructed, or else minded be,
What Hopes, continuing Labours, will befit.
Though, long thou toyled hast, and, long attended
About such workings as are necessary;
And, oftentimes, ere fully they are ended,
Shalt finde thy paines in danger to miscarry:
Yet, be not out of hope, nor quite dejected:
For, buryed Seeds will sprout when Winter's gone;
Vnlikelier things are many times effected;
And, God brings helpe, when men their best have done.
Yea, they that in Good-workes their life imploy;
Although, they sowe in teares, shall reape in joy.
