Silex Scintillans sacred poems and private ejaculations. The second Edition, In two Books; By Henry Vaughan, Silurist |
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| I. |
| II. |
The Garland. |
 | Silex Scintillans |  |
15
The Garland.
Thou, who dost flow and flourish here below.
To whom a falling star and nine dayes glory,
Or some frail beauty makes the bravest shew,
Hark, and make use of this ensuing story.
To whom a falling star and nine dayes glory,
Or some frail beauty makes the bravest shew,
Hark, and make use of this ensuing story.
When first my youthfull, sinfull age
Grew master of my wayes,
Appointing errour for my Page,
And darknesse for my dayes;
I flung away, and with full crie
Of wild affections, rid
In post for pleasures; bent to trie
All gamesters that would bid.
I played with fire, did counsell spurn,
Made life my common stake;
But never thought that fire would burn,
Or that a soul could ake.
Glorious deceptions, gilded mists,
False joyes, phantastick flights,
Peeces of sackcloth with silk lists:
These were my prime delights.
I sought choice bowres haunted the spring,
Cull'd flowres and made me posies:
Gave my fond humours their full wing,
And crown'd my head with Roses.
But at the height of this Careire
I met with a dead man,
Who noting well my vain Abear,
Thus unto me began:
Desist fond fool, be not undone,
What thou hast cut to day
Whll fade at night, and with this Sun
Quite vanish and decay.
Grew master of my wayes,
Appointing errour for my Page,
And darknesse for my dayes;
I flung away, and with full crie
Of wild affections, rid
In post for pleasures; bent to trie
All gamesters that would bid.
I played with fire, did counsell spurn,
Made life my common stake;
But never thought that fire would burn,
Or that a soul could ake.
Glorious deceptions, gilded mists,
False joyes, phantastick flights,
Peeces of sackcloth with silk lists:
These were my prime delights.
I sought choice bowres haunted the spring,
Cull'd flowres and made me posies:
Gave my fond humours their full wing,
And crown'd my head with Roses.
But at the height of this Careire
I met with a dead man,
Who noting well my vain Abear,
Thus unto me began:
Desist fond fool, be not undone,
What thou hast cut to day
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Quite vanish and decay.
Flowres gather'd in this world, die here; if thou
Wouldst have a wreath that fades not, let them grow,
And grow for thee; who spares them here, shall find
A Garland, where comes neither rain, nor wind.
Wouldst have a wreath that fades not, let them grow,
And grow for thee; who spares them here, shall find
A Garland, where comes neither rain, nor wind.
| Silex Scintillans | |