Divine emblems Embellished with etchings on copper, after the fashion of Master Francis Quarles. Designed and written by, Johann Abricht [i.e. Jonathan Birch |
 | DIVINE EMBLEMS. |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
 | Divine emblems |  |
DIVINE EMBLEMS.
EMBLEM I.
[Why is this darkness?—Phœbus shone most bright]
E'en now—and now, it is Cimmerian night!
What have I done, that Thou shouldst veil his face
From me—to sun the profligate and base?—
What thoughtless deed—what meditated sin
Of mine—hath roused this ceaseless thundering?
Have I not read thy Law; and kept it too?
Done all—and more than Thou command'st me do?
Denied the flesh—fulfilled mount Sinai's law?
Display a blemish—I discern no flaw.
Was it for this, I've borne the world's rebuke,
Eschew'd its fashions—hid me in a nook
Should swerve—and from thy holy law depart.
Could I do more, to gain thy radiant smile—
What more—thy heavenly favours to beguile?
If night and thund'rings be my sole reward!
When did I fail in doing my best do
To merit Heaven?—thy Word's my surety true.
Forbear thine anger!—bid thy thunders cease—
My limbs are palsied—and my fears increase!
In thought I may have wander'd—but what then,
In act I'm pure—what canst thou wish for more?
Augment not, Lord! my sin-abounding score.
No “still small voice!”—thy thunderings do not cease
Lord!—does thy wrath with my dismay increase?
That I may know thy will—and see my way:
By man false school'd, oh, teach me, Lord, to read
Thy word aright—Lord! help me in my need.
Heart-broken—poor—benighted—full of sin—
With works bespangled—but bedaub'd within!
If thought can sin—do Thou my thoughts control.
Have mercy, Lord!—command thy thunders cease;
Stay thou mine aspen limbs—my fears decrease!
Hail, Phospher! harbinger of day!
Come! come Redeemer! oh, dispel this gloom
This terror night has been full long my doom!
Yes, I have err'd!—to trust to mortal arm,
To works, and merits—as if they could charm
Eternal justice!—when the thought's required
To be as perfect as the deed desired!
Come, Saviour! come, in radiance bright,
Warm my clamm'd limbs—dismiss this Stygian night
Increase my love!—the sin-atoning Lamb
Alone can shelter from the stern I AM!
The sufficiency of my merit is to know that my merit is not sufficient.
The ray of hope that breaks upon the benighted soul, is cheering as the morning star to the sick prisoner languishing for the time of the warder's rising; he hopes once again to be placed under the canopy of heaven.
Through the wrath of the Lord of Hosts is the land darkened.
Their webs shall not become garments, neither shall they cover themselves with their works.
Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee.
Darkness is past, and the true light now shineth.
Not of works, lest any man should boast.
EPIG.
[What though thy sun gives warmth and light and life!]
What though thy sun gives warmth and light and life!Does he not hatch the dying maggot-fly?
My Sun revives benighted souls! which rife
Live through a bliss-prepared eternity!
EMBLEM II.
[Whither away, fond Boy?—thy fling of pleasure]
I
Whither away, fond Boy?—thy fling of pleasureThou hast enjoyed—without control or measure:
Thy whim exhausts not!—and the World but seems
A willing agent, to thy waking dreams—
But will it always prove as willing as it seems?
II
Though calm and sunshine—and the gentle breezesAttending, fan thee—and the gliding pleases—
Though confidence be buoyant, and thy skill
Be surety 'gainst a common chance of ill:
A blast may rend thy sail—a wave thy fortunes spill.
III
Unthwarted hankerings sure have turn'd thy brain—What! seek new pleasures o'er so foul a main?
Thy hollow bark—should zephyrs turn to gusts,
Will shift its ballast—and the fool that trusts
Its specious loyalty—be overwhelmed in lusts.
IV
And art thou still of mind to venture outBeyond thy ken? Young Steersman! put about
Before the Pharos sinks—be not so keck!
Thy unrestrained career may meet a check
I'th' sea—although on land thou could'st not break thy neck.
V
Poor, blind, inflated Boy! thou dost not seeThe rocks and shoals, that almost stare at thee;
Charybdis yawns—and Scylla's iron shore
In vain rejects the waves, with loudest roar—
Thou hast no ear; no eye, to shun or to explore.
The flesh is to be satisfied so far as suffices to our good; whosoever alloweth so much to her as to make her proud, knoweth not how to be satisfied: to be satisfied is a great art; lest by the satiety of the flesh we break forth into the iniquity of her folly.
For Mammon is a chief tempter—he hath under his control riches, honours, pleasures, and giveth fair weather revels to foul souls.
The heart is a small thing, but desireth great matters—it is not sufficient for a kite's dinner, yet the whole world is not sufficient for it.
Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy on him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon.
There is no end of all his labour, neither is his eye satisfied with riches.
EPIG.
[The wayward Boy, whose foolish loving mother]
The wayward Boy, whose foolish loving motherPermits him domineer o'er servants, sister, brother!
Fancies such mute endurance of his kicks and blows
Results from power in him—so with his growth he grows
A braggart!—till some rustic urchin mar his nose!
EMBLEM III.
[A dainty voyage thou hast made, forsooth]
I
A dainty voyage thou hast made, forsooth,In grasping search of El Dorado!
Is it thy fancied skill hath wrought thee ruth?
Or art capsiz'd by a tornado?
Or has thy bubble-bark—too light—too crank—
Shifted its ballast—and expos'd its flank
To the boist'rous wind; to play thee off a prank?
II
Whate'er the cause; thou art in doleful plight:Besotted and besopp'd is thy condition!
Thy honours and renown have taken flight!
And thou thyself fast sinking to perdition,
Thou art chin-deep immers'd in lusts!—
Sure fate of him who seeks and trusts
A wanton World—hot spices bring on thirsts!
III
Where is thy helmet—and thy warlike gear?Thy money-bags, and deeds and gaming toys?
And smiles?—all gone!—what hast thou left? a tear
To brine that cheek so late suffused with joys—
Infatuate youth!—still cling'st thou to thy foe?
Uncoil thy leg—and learn thy curse to know—
One moment—and she swamps thee!—let her go.
IV
Cast off—and make for shore—behold!A shield still floats—and wooes thy panting breast:
Repent—and cherish hope—in hope be bold
That grace may save—repentance is the test!
Repentance—to the soul gives kind relief:
Repentance—changes hope, to sure belief:
Repentance—saved the sighing dying thief!
Tell me, where be those now, that so lately loved and hugged the World?
But I tell you a storm shall arise, thy light bark shall be shattered, and all thy choice Argosie—riches, power, pride, honours, be lost, and thyself gasping in lusts—thy haughtiness craving the help even of a straw—eschew the empty world, for its love is death.
They shall be as chaff that is driven with a whirlwind out of the floor.
EPIG.
[What is the World?—a field of flowers, and weeds, and stubble!]
What is the World?—a field of flowers, and weeds, and stubble!And life?—a very schoolboy's soapen bubble!
Which if a fly but cross its airy way,
The bubble bursts—the Globe has passed away!
EMBLEM IV.
[—Seductive World, we've had enough of thee!]
Soul.—Seductive World, we've had enough of thee!
Beshrew thy power! my Sister must be free—
She is no slave of thine—nor master thou to me!
II
Thou didst allure us, with enticing sweets—Before us placed thy gay delusive treats—
And trapped us with thy soul-destroying gilded cheats.
III
By subtle fumes, that o'er my senses stole,Caution was lull'd—thou didst obtain control
Over my yielding Sister: whilst still slept her soul!
IV
Awake, I gave thy opiates to the wind,Dared thee to stay the unconsenting mind!
And the unwilling body must not be confined.
—I do retain her till she pays the debt
For jewels, feasts, and robes of golden net—
Down beds of Tyrian hue and costly mansions let.
Soul.
—What she partook—thou didst invite her to,
And woful retchings she did undergo
From the seductive sweets!—the debt is false you know!
VII
In the same rustic garb she's clad, as erst,Ere your deceptive blandishments accurst
Enticed her wandering eye—and on her senses burst.
—She had her will, she wanted no decoy
To woo to pleasure and a life of joy—
Oh no! a world of pleasure is too choice a toy!
Soul.
—Sister! thou would'st be free from thy disgrace?
Body.
—Oh yes!
Soul.
—Thou would'st not while in leagues so base?
Body.
Oh no!
Soul.
—Dost hear, thou fiend of double face?
Soul.
—Now, Sister, break his bonds—try—do thy best!
Some severed bands thy willing will attest!
Behold! the Bridegroom comes—his pow'r will do the rest!
It is the Devil's part to suggest: ours not to consent. As oft as we resist him, so often we overcome him: so often we bring joy to the Angels and glory to God, who prepareth us that we may contend, and assisteth us that we may conquer.
For the Devil may suggest, compel he cannot.
I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God: whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another.
The Son of Man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.
EPIG.
[Here's pretty work! Satan's black bloated Porpus]
Here's pretty work! Satan's black bloated PorpusHas dared suspend the Habeas Corpus!
But see! one comes—who if I'm not mistaken
Will make the Hell-hog scout, to save his bacon!
EMBLEM V.
[Oh love divine! Oh much abounding grace!]
I
Oh love divine! Oh much abounding grace!To grant a glimpse to one so base
Of bliss!—to see and taste this ample store
Of love—and paradise explore!—
Delightful vision of immortal gifts!
Raising the soul to airy clifts,
From earthly grovelings!—Lord! I long to part
From life—to live in my dear Florist's heart:
And adoration pay,
A never-ending day,
Amidst these fragrant flowers—and constant May!
II
Like to the Bee—from sweet to sweets I roveTasting the bounties of thy love—
The thornless rose, the odorous violet
In perfume speech—say “go not yet.”—
The honeysuckle, with mellifluous sweets,
Entices to her bow'ry seats—
And the white jessamine, with gentle twine
Wooes me to tarry, with her tender bine—
Oh I would willing stay
My lifelong day,
Midst flowers that never fade—and constant May.
III
Fond children of the World! did ye but knowThe chosen plants that here do grow—
Did ye once taste the cooling quenching rills,
That trickle from th'ethereal Hills—
Did ye once hear the melody that cheers
The heart—and fascinates the ears!—
Ye would not while with gaudy marigolds,
Or drink of thirsty springs that Earth infolds!
But quickly haste away
To spend a day,
Amidst these fragrant flowers—and constant May.
IV
Ye laud the charms the changing world affords,Its pleasures, honours—golden hoards;
And vainly think that wealth well spent
May purchase heaven! although not give content.
Alas! ye argue, but ye little know,
Since reason's clogg'd by things below:
Did ye once taste these rills, and hear, and see
These heavenly sights—you'd raise your thoughts and flee
From earth and things of clay
To spend a day,
Amidst these fragrant flowers—and constant May.
V
Your thoughts, poor Worldlings! and the goods ye prizeAre worthless in the Bridegroom's eyes:
Your birds are tuneless, when compared with these
That sing from everlasting trees:
The waters ye call fair, and so much praise,
Are turbid as your brightest days:
To taste you've but to will—and to forego
The 'witching World!—is but the World to know.
Then prithee haste away
To spend a day,
Amidst these fragrant flowers—and constant May.
That is the true and chief joy, which is not conceived from the creature, but received from the Creator, which being once possest of, none can take from thee: whereto all pleasure being compared is torment, all joy is grief, sweet things are bitter, and all glory is baseness.
Ask, and it shall be given you; seek and ye shall find; knock and it shall be opened unto you: for every one that asketh receiveth.
Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.
They mind earthly things; but our conversation is in heaven.
EPIG.
[Hark! to the warning voice—it tells thee true]
Hark! to the warning voice—it tells thee true,Thy coin is Brummagem—thy pansies, rue!
Shake off thy sloth—be wise—nor more deceive
Thyself with baubles! which you die, and leave.
EMBLEM VI.
[Touch it no more, fond Boy!]
I
Touch it no more, fond Boy!But think thyself well loose
From such a load!—employ
Thy senses to a better use!
For all thy toil, what dost possess of its possessions?
Disease! from revel nights—and hollow false professions
II
Sickness doth sometimes proveA good; and works a change—
So thine may mercy move,
And thee from earth estrange;
Thy ague-stricken limbs, oppressed by mammon weight
Have toppled off their load—thy worse than worthless freight.
III
How thou hast puff'd, and blow'd,And vainly spent thy breath,
And stagger'd with thy load,
And gasp'd as one in death!
Know Boy! thy hot-cold malady is earth begot,
And wilt thou strive again, to gain so foul a lot?
IV
Thou hast escap'd—unhurt—Without a crick—fond Boy!
Dost woo again the flirt,
The gilded cheating toy?
'Tis full of bubbles, bawbles, snares, and turpitude
Give it no more thy love—thy willing servitude.
V
Hast thou ambition? riseFrom earth to things above,—
To heaven thy downcast eyes,
And choose a nobler love—
There may'st thou rest from toil—and loads oppressing
In realms of joy, 'midst treasures worth possessing.
O you that dote upon the world, for what victory do ye fight? Your hopes can be crowned with no greater reward than the world can give; and what is the world but a brittle thing full of dangers, wherein we travel from lesser to greater perils? Oh, let all her vain, light, and momentary glory perish with herself, and let us be conversant with more eternal things.
Vanity of vanities; saith the preacher, vanity of vanities, all is vanity. I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and behold all is vanity and vexation of spirit.
For what is a man advantaged, if he gain the whole world, and lose himself, or be cast away?
EPIG.
[One paradox the Moth and Man entangles]
One paradox the Moth and Man entangles:She burns her legs off—and still seeks the candles:
So thoughtless he, bilk'd, cross'd, and wounded, daily teazed;
Still wooes the swindling world—as were his brain diseased.
EMBLEM VII.
[Avaunt thy hand!—my days fly so too fast!]
Just now I've leisure to review the past—
Let go the Index! tell me, has fell spite
Embued thee?—so to hasten on the night.—
The Index, as the horologe, goes well,
No hour escapes unmark'd its loud-tongued bell.
I have not clogg'd the wheels, or staid its go;
But kept them fed with oil, and clean—altho'
I've often wish'd the pendulum might stand,
Without the aid of my too willing hand.
Scythe-man! forbear—the days of my existence
Are few enough, without thy sharp assistance!
—Thine oil has not been pure!—the wheels are clogg'd—
The pendulum's too slow—and must be jogg'd!
The works are sore disorder'd—and I trow
You've lived too fast—and it goes far too slow!
With Thee,—the hour of twelve has long since chimed
Yet here—the Index lags at six.
Lady.
—Ill-timed!
Time.
—Poor soul! I will but set the Meter right
That thou may'st truly know Time's rapid flight!
Thy constitution fails—thy death's begun!
Thy day is spent before the set of sun!
Lady.
—How lived too fast?—of what have I partook
Not drest by rules of culinary book?—
Did I e'er sip but of the costliest wine?—
Or e'er on couch less soft than down, recline?—
Have I lethargically gone to bed
Before the sun decampt—or night was sped?—
I ne'er exposed me to the evening's dew,
In mansion pleasures I have past the night
Nor rose—till Sol had gain'd meridian height!
Time.
—Thine oil has been impure!—thy knowledge frail
To think that sloth and lux'ries could avail
To foster health—thy system's morbid grown!
And hale hilarity—for ever flown:
Thy turbid blood flows at a drawling pace,
And Apoplexy stalks upon thy face!—
My mission's done!—poor soul! I must away
To meet the sun—and usher in the day!
Lady.
—While—yet awhile! Oh, tell me what to do!
Time.
—Reverse thy life—thy flitted hours review!
Div. Cup.
—Repent! whilst minutes last—thy hours are few.—
Hope still remains—here turn thy flooded eyes,
And trust --- time flies!
Luxury is an enticing pleasure, a bastard mirth, which hath honey in her mouth, gall in her heart, and a sting in her tail.
Mind ye how ye pass your hours, for life is the time of your probation—life is uncertain; therefore procrastinate not; what ye think is health ofttimes proves disease, and sickness ofttimes is your health.
Woe unto you that laugh now! for ye shall mourn and weep.
Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.
EPIG.
[Tho' fair to view—th'Asphal'tean fruit accurst!]
Tho' fair to view—th'Asphal'tean fruit accurst!Is cored with bitterness—and pulp'd with dust!
Hectic may heighten beauty—but the ruddy wealth
That blooms upon the country cheek—is Health.
EMBLEM VIII.
[What dost thou there? Poor Boy, thou hast no chance]
I
What dost thou there? Poor Boy, thou hast no chance'Mongst practised gamblers fraught with foul deceit!
Thou might'st as well seek piety, perchance,
Or bashful virtue in the public street!
Thou can'st not hope to win, from such companionment!
Unfructive is thy science—and thy time's misspent.
II
Hast thou much gold to stake? they'll have it all,Maugre thy cunning—Two, so closely leagued
As Mammon, and his man—must work thy fall;
They are all eye, and touch,—whilst thou fatigued
With planning, hoping, watching—nod'st: anon
They make thee bankrupt—and thy reputation's gone.
III
Vain, foolish youth!—to think thy mite of senseCan cope with such—so consummate in wiles!—
Thy honest play, poor Boy! is poor pretence—
Those are but grins—that thou mistak'st for smiles!
Thou hast not half a chance!—t'escape unscath'd their paws
Is hopeless—as the captur'd mouse from feline claws.
IV
A dumbmy! verily they have in tow:Thou see'st not when they filch thee of the deal!—
Cut as thou wilt, an honour lies below,
But thou no knave canst on the board reveal!
Now they revoke! by thee unkenn'd: their spades come in,
And all thy hearts are lost: Fool! dost still think to win?
V
What! four by honours!—and thy score at six!Thy joyful look betides a certainty—
Thou art deceived—they'll win the game by tricks!
Despite thy honours, and thy chuckling eye.
Thou may'st as well attempt to guide the light of day,
As pit thy fancied science 'gainst their crafty play.
VI
Thou hast no chance!—thy winning is in flight!Break up—get home—thou'st rubbers lost enow!
How can'st thou in such folly take delight?
Marring thy forehead, with a wrinkled brow—
Unless thou dost repent, and change thy ways and friends;
Thy life will be thy death, and Hell thy journey ends!
Avoid disputations; for much evil has been done to Christ's Church by weak disputants—the Logicians of this world do use subtleties—and do oftentimes confound the faithful—yea, sometimes bring into captivity the disciple that doth trust his own strength—
Do not seek them out—and if the Children of the Devil would seek thee out—send them to your Doctors.
I am a brother to dragons, and a companion to owls.
But shame shall be the promotion of fools.
EPIG.
['Tis better keep at home, and ponder well—]
'Tis better keep at home, and ponder well—Than search out casuists, to controvert—
His idiosyncracy is great!—who thinks to quell
A flaming Play-house—with a penny squirt!
EMBLEM IX.
[Return my best belov'd! nor linger longer, where]
I
Return my best belov'd! nor linger longer, whereThe nightingale is mute! though silent groves be there!
But spread the sails of my desires—thine anchor weigh;
For I am mark'd for scorn!—by thy prolonged stay.
The Nobles pass me by, with haughty eyes;
Nor hear my sighs!
The Merchants close their hands, and bar the door
'Gainst my implore!
The Maidens toss the head, and will not know,
One brought so low!
My Kindred fly me—when they should console
Mine anguish'd soul!
All this I suffer, and much more could bear!
Would my Beloved come—if he would draw more near!
Blow gently winds—ye balmy zephyrs play
Around my Love! whilst my Beloved's away.
II
Return my best belov'd! nor longer linger, whereThe nightingale is mute! though spicy woods be there!
But hoist the sails of my desires! thine anchor weigh;
For I am mark'd for scorn!—by thy protracted stay.
They ask me whom I love! but I thy name
Fear to proclaim!
Lest they should multiply their scoffs and sneers,
And mock my tears!
They doubt my honour!—thy betroth'd they shun
As one undone
By traitor!—left to tears, and sobs, and frights,
And sleepless nights.
All this I suffer, and yet more could bear!
Would my Beloved come—if he would draw more near!
Blow gently winds—ye fragrant zephyrs play
Around my Love—whilst my Beloved's away.
III
Return my best belov'd! nor linger longer, whereThe nightingale is mute! though spicy groves be there!
But spread the sails of my desires! thine anchor weigh;
For scorn I am the “mark!”—from thy prolonged stay.
Thou said'st, my Love! thou would'st return full soon:
By change of moon!
The moon has chang'd, and chang'd, and chang'd again
But chang'd in vain!
Nor Moon, nor Sun, has solace brought my heart,
Since thy depart!
But sorrowing days and nights fill up the space,
And blear my face.
All this I undergo—and more would bear!
Did my Beloved come—if he would draw more near!
Blow gently winds—ye rose-fraught zephyrs play
Around my Love—whilst my Beloved's away.
IV
Return my best belov'd! nor longer linger, whereThe nightingale is mute! tho' myrtle groves be there!
But hoist the sails of my desires! thine anchor weigh;
For scorn I'm made the “mark!”—from thy prolonged stay.
I will not breathe, thou might'st be back ere now:
By plighted vow!
I will not think thee fickle grown, and gone:
And I forlorn!
Oh no! but hope, with balmy breathing morn
Thou wilt return!
Fraught with delights, to succour, heal, and charm
My fond alarm.
Much have I undergone—and more could bear!
Did my Beloved come—if he would draw more near!
Blow gently winds—ye od'rous zephyrs play
Around my Love—whilst my Beloved's away.
V
Return my best belov'd—nor linger longer, where,The nightingale is mute! tho' citron groves be there!
But spread the sails of my desires! thine anchor weigh;
For I am stricken sore!—by thy protracted stay.
Come my beloved! to my loyal breast,
And be at rest!
Make it thy haven safe, from rock and billow:
Thy peaceful pillow!
Be thou my magnet—make the needle true,
Quickened by you!
Then height, nor depth, nor space shall sever
Our love—Oh never!
Much have I undergone, and more would bear!
Did my Beloved come—if he would draw more near!
Blow briskly winds—sweet fanning zephyrs play
Around my Love—my lover speeds his way!
Fear not, O Bride, nor despair; think not thyself contemned, if thy Bridegroom withdraw his face awhile.
If the Church hath true love towards Christ, time and absence will but make it more binding—for the Spirit doth sometimes appear to be absent, and the Church suffers persecutions that it may be tried—but the Bridegroom will not tarry long away: therefore be ye faithful to Martyrdom.
Let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is lovely.
My beloved is mine and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies.
By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but found him not.
EPIG.
[The true True-lovers'-knot but firmer ties]
The true True-lovers'-knot but firmer tiesThe farther lovers part—hold thou but fast—
Tho' still earth-bound—thy Love beyond the skies!
The tie contracts—the union's sure to last.
EMBLEM X.
[How could I trust yon antic swain]
I
How could I trust yon antic swainWith cap and bells and toy?
Some planet, sure, did turn my brain
To catch at such decoy:
With him to keep fools' holiday
I gambol'd far away—
I followed where he led—he led astray—
II
Thoughtless we pass'd Mount Sinai:Loud thunderings smote my ear:
Fork'd lightnings glared my wanton eye,
But life was in the glare!
I took alarm—on feet of thought
Jordan's pure stream I sought;
I found a sterile country—parch'd with drought!
III
I turn'd my steps to Bethsaida,But found no waters fair—
No “pool!” no Ishmaelitish trader
Halted his camels there.
I fled—my antic snare pursued
And would again have woo'd—
I stopt my ears—and all his lures withstood.
IV
I sought Bethesda's fount of fame,But found its waters “still.”
I watch'd—no friendly angel came
To agitate the rill—
Distracted o'er the earth I roam—
I've dared the Ocean's foam!
Do tell me—if thou canst—my pathway home!
V
Oh I am weary, sick, and sad,My half-clad limbs are cold;
No good I've known—no peace have had,
Since I forsook the fold:
But thorny paths, and flinty roads,
And chilly damp abodes:
And worse than all—dismal and dire forebodes!
—The Prodigal! repentant grown,
Was welcomed with cost—
Thy gentle Shepherd knows his own,
Altho' the mark be lost!
He left the “perfect ninety-nine!”
I'th' fold, and did incline
To seek the “truant one,” with love divine!
—Say! is there hope, when I return,
To 'scape the righteous dart?
Evangelist.
—Yes! if his love did ever burn
Within thy wayward heart.
This pathway leads to yonder gate,
There loudly knock—though late—
Thy Shepherd stands prepar'd to fold the runagate!
Broad and spacious is the road to infernal life: there are enticements and death-bringing pleasures— there the Devil flattereth that he may deceive: smileth that he may endamage: allureth that he may destroy.
The Lord went before the children of Israel by day in a pillar of cloud, and by night in a pillar of fire, but they rebelled—the thunderings of Mount Sinai affrighted them: yet they bow'd to Idols—he gave them bitter water to drink—he also gave them manna to eat—but for all his anger and kindnesses they repented not—so that of the host that fled from Egypt, none entered the promised land save Joshua and Caleb.
Return ye backsliding children, and I will heal your backslidings.
I have blotted out as a thick cloud thy transgressions, and as a cloud thy sins; return unto me, for I have redeemed thee.
Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
EPIG.
[To be well off—and feel so! sure is knowledge]
To be well off—and feel so! sure is knowledge,To keep so—wisdom! seldom gain'd at College:
Sound health requires but little care—much care
To reinstate—and boxes of—Pilula fare.
EMBLEM XI.
[In vain thou striv'st, the Power that made, can rule]
I.
In vain thou striv'st, the Power that made, can rule,Can move, can fix—can delegate—resume—
The malign influence of thyself, and fool,
No more shall mar the world or thought entomb—
Behold! religion, peace, and science fair,
Now reign where ignorance and superstition,
Avarice and folly had a share
Of sway—and hurried to perdition.
Thou fail'st to move—yet hop'st to bear away
The wanton World—and once more so regain
Thy power to work—if only for a day—
I tell thee Mammon! that thy hope is vain!
The hold thou hast—too slight to bear—will break,
And greater purchase thou'rt forbid to take.
II.
Dost thou not marvel that thy dainty master,Satan! unheeds thy call—nor sends a devil
To help thee stem and strive in thy disaster?
To use his favourite thus is far from civil.
Perchance! he's ill-at-ease and cannot come,
Or paying visits to his debtors?
Or is arrived the dread Millennium?
And he got fast in mighty fetters:
Where for a thousand years, Hell's Majesty
In moody melancholy may solus sit;
Or rave and curse, or contemplate and sigh,
Within the confines of the groundless pit!
'Tis even so!—some work is left for thee—
But all thy power to tempt shall harmless be:
Thou still the thousand years shalt play a part,
But lack the sway thou once hadst o'er the heart.
By how much nearer Satan perceiveth the World to be at an end, by so much the more fiercely he troubleth it with persecution; that knowing himself to be damned he may get company in his damnation.
Then shall Christ's kingdom be manifest, for it is written that Satan shall be bound for a thousand years, which is called the Millennium; and then after a time shall Christ reign.
All vices wax old by age: covetousness alone groweth young.
And I saw an angel come down from heaven having the key of the bottomless pit, and a great chain in his hand. And he laid hold on the Dragon, that old serpent which is the devil and Satan, and bound him a thousand years, and cast him into the bottomless pit.
And I saw a great white throne and him that sat on it.
EPIG.
[The motto “mutatur non mutari”]
The motto “mutatur non mutari”Seems to have put Mammon in a quandary;
As the writing of old, displayed on the wall
Staggered Belshazzar before his fall—
Old tempter to evil, thou may'st fret, fume, and fuss,
For thy doom, likes the doom, of old Sisyphus!
EMBLEM XII.
1. FIRST PART.
[To tread]
I
To treadWhere sleep the dead;
To muse upon the past,
Is life to know, whilst life does last.
The flow'r that blooms upon the conic sod
Exhaling fragrant sweets—emblems a soul with God!
II
Where lieThe great that die?
I'th' earth!—and their abode
Is with the slave that bore the load!
Death knows not of degrees—he equal makes
The clown, the priest, the monarch! when their breath he takes.
III
The deadO'er whom we tread:
But few years past trod o'er
The church-yard—and are now no more:
Silent and dank they rest—the boist'rous world,
With all its storms, affrights them not—their sails are furl'd.
IV
To muse,And to diffuse
Our musings 'mongst the young,
Ready to join the busy throng,
Of men—is what Experience owes to Youth:
Let them beware of slighting wisdom and reproof!
V
UponA plank we run,
Across a gulph that yawns—
Life's path is thick beset with thorns!
It is a meadow all bestrew'd with flowers!
It is a stormy sea!—a day of gentle showers!
VI
The past!The thought how vast—
Epoch on Epoch, have evolv'd!
Yet “the first cause” is still unsolv'd;
The problem's, not for man's infirmity
Of mind—we cannot comprehend “eternity!”
O Wisdom! with how sweet an art doth thy wine and oil restore health to my healthless soul! how powerfully merciful, how mercifully powerful art thou! powerful for me, merciful to me!
The Church-yard is a delightful garden, and the Charnel-house a mansion of sweet savour to the enquiring soul; for they lead to meditation on the fragileness and noisomeness of this corruptible, and the necessary preparation for the incorruptible state.
But it is good for me to draw near to God; I have put my trust in the Lord God.
EPIG.
[The Tombstone “records” of the village dead]
The Tombstone “records” of the village deadInvite the passer-by to—“stop and read!”
O Reader! read and stop—behold thy bed
Of earth! whate'er thy rank—whate'er thy creed.
2. SECOND PART.
[Is life]
VII
Is lifeA long short strife,
And nothing more?—it ought
To be, the nursery of thought—
The time allotted to prepare our souls
With true and “vise” passports! good at heavenly tolls!
VIII
To know,Where lurks the foe
And what his strength, is half
The battle—with thy pilgrim staff,
If Pilgrim true thou art—thou may'st assault
The tempting fiend—and haply bring him to default!
IX
BeforeThe conflict sore:
Let Hope, thy thews encase:
And Faith, thy holy courage brace;
Be Love, thy trust—which if vouchsaf'd, thou'rt sure
To foil the tempter—and the promised prize secure.
X
'Tis gone!“The bell strikes one!”
The myst'ry's solv'd—in youth
Be wise—and know this solemn truth!
Life is the time to seek the Lord—in death
There's no “repent”—Hope flits upon the parting breath!
XI
And allOur own we call;
We leave—the wise-laid plan
For eking out our little span
Of life, in deeds of worth and piety,
Put off—undone—Death tears us from society.
XII
O'ercast—The sunshine past—
The cold earth intervenes
Between the actor, and life-scenes!
This ponderous Globe shall disappear! Death die!
Time lose his 'count!—bewildered in Eternity!
Thou knowest not what time he will come; wait always, that because thou knowest not the time of his coming, thou mayst be prepared against the time he cometh.
Despise ye the mammon of this world—be ye temperate and humble—vigilant—valiant for the faith and persevering to the end; so shall ye inherit the Crown of Glory.
Neither be ye terrified because of them. For the Lord your God is he that goeth with you, to fight for you against your enemies, to save you.
For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities.
The world passeth away, and the lust thereof.
EPIG.
[Man, prates about his love of peace, and hate of strife—]
Man, prates about his love of peace, and hate of strife—The certainty of Death—th'uncertainty of Life—
Yet does his little life, less love than strife contain;
And Life, and Death, preach holy certainties in vain.
[ALAS!]
ALAS!We sob and cry
Most piteously,
In early INFANCY!
Our CHILDHOOD years move trippingly:
Our BOYHOOD and our lectures crawlingly—
And then we wish for power and manhood ardently—
We love & hate, & hope & fear—gain, lose; are hale & sick alternately!
Passes MANHOOD—then comes on OLD AGE & feebleness; & then we sigh
The time that's past,—and think it all mispent—are very worldly wise—and DIE!
[illeg.]ing our little “good or ill” to that world's whim to blot or magnify:
And then our friends, with ostentation, send the body to the grave—in earth to lie:
And kindred weep, 'kerchief in hand—and put on black, to mistify:
And say they share our gold reluctantly,
Thinking the time arrived full tardily!
And then they live right merrily
Laughing, and cheerily
Forgetting verily
OLD SLY!
This World's a Circus—Hospital, a Paradise, a Sty!
In which we strive, and moan, and riot, multiply and die.
LIFE's but a span—a sob, a smile, a laugh, a sigh;
And ah! 'tis made well nigh
A very, very
FARCE!
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