Divine poems Containing The History of Ionah. Ester. Iob. Sampson. Sions Sonets. Elegies. Written and newly augmented, by Fra: Quarles |
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 | Divine poems |  |
Meditat. 12
Some Ev'ls I must approve, al Goods, I dare not,
Some are, & seem not good; some seem & are not:
In choosing goods my heart will make the choyce,
My flattring eye shall have no casting voyce;
No outward sense may choose an inward blisse,
For seeming Happinesse least happy is:
The eye (the chiefest Cinque-port of the Heart)
Keepes open doores, and playes the Traytors part,
Lets painted pleasures in, to bribe th'Affections,
Which masks foule faces under false complexions;
It hath no pow'r to judge, nor can it see
Things as they are, but as they seeme to be.
Some are, & seem not good; some seem & are not:
In choosing goods my heart will make the choyce,
My flattring eye shall have no casting voyce;
No outward sense may choose an inward blisse,
For seeming Happinesse least happy is:
The eye (the chiefest Cinque-port of the Heart)
Keepes open doores, and playes the Traytors part,
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Which masks foule faces under false complexions;
It hath no pow'r to judge, nor can it see
Things as they are, but as they seeme to be.
There's but one happinesse, one perfect blisse;
But how obtain'd, or where, or what it is,
The world of nature ne're could apprehend,
Grounding their labours on no other end
Than bare opinion, diversly affecting
Some one thing, some another, still projecting
Prodigious fancies, till their learned Schooles
Lent so much knowledge as to make them fooles:
One builds his blisse upon the blaze of glory:
Can perfect happinesse be transitory?
In strength, another summes Felicity:
What horse is not more happy farre than he?
Some pile their happinesse on heapes of wealth:
Which (sicke) they'd loath, if gold could purchase health:
Some, in the use of beautie place their end;
Some, in th'enjoyment of a Courtly friend:
Like wasted Lampes, such happinesses smother;
Age puffeth out the one; and wants, the other.
The happinesse, whose worth deserves the name
Of chiefe, with such a fier doth inflame
The brests of mortalls, that heav'n thinkes it fit
That men should rather thinke than taste of it;
All earthly joyes some other aime intend,
This, for it selfe's desir'd, no other end:
Those, (if enjoy'd) are crost with discontent,
If not in the pursuit, in the event:
This (truly good) admits no contrarietie,
Without defect, or yet a loath'd saciety.
But how obtain'd, or where, or what it is,
The world of nature ne're could apprehend,
Grounding their labours on no other end
Than bare opinion, diversly affecting
Some one thing, some another, still projecting
Prodigious fancies, till their learned Schooles
Lent so much knowledge as to make them fooles:
One builds his blisse upon the blaze of glory:
Can perfect happinesse be transitory?
In strength, another summes Felicity:
What horse is not more happy farre than he?
Some pile their happinesse on heapes of wealth:
Which (sicke) they'd loath, if gold could purchase health:
Some, in the use of beautie place their end;
Some, in th'enjoyment of a Courtly friend:
Like wasted Lampes, such happinesses smother;
Age puffeth out the one; and wants, the other.
The happinesse, whose worth deserves the name
Of chiefe, with such a fier doth inflame
The brests of mortalls, that heav'n thinkes it fit
That men should rather thinke than taste of it;
All earthly joyes some other aime intend,
This, for it selfe's desir'd, no other end:
Those, (if enjoy'd) are crost with discontent,
If not in the pursuit, in the event:
This (truly good) admits no contrarietie,
Without defect, or yet a loath'd saciety.
The least is more than my desert can claime,
(Thankfull for both) at this alone I aime.
(Thankfull for both) at this alone I aime.
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