Divine poems Containing The History of Ionah. Ester. Iob. Sampson. Sions Sonets. Elegies. Written and newly augmented, by Fra: Quarles |
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Meditat. 7.
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 | Divine poems |  |
Meditat. 7.
The perfect Modell of true Friendship's this:
A rare affection of the soule, which is
Begun with ripened judgement, doth persever
With simple Wisedome, & concludes with Never.
A rare affection of the soule, which is
Begun with ripened judgement, doth persever
With simple Wisedome, & concludes with Never.
'Tis pure in substance, as refined Gold,
That buyeth all things, but is never sold:
It is a Coyne, and most men walke without it;
True Love's the Stamp, Iehovah's writ about it;
It rusts unus'd, but using makes it brighter,
'Gainst Heav'n high treason 'tis, to make it lighter.
That buyeth all things, but is never sold:
It is a Coyne, and most men walke without it;
True Love's the Stamp, Iehovah's writ about it;
It rusts unus'd, but using makes it brighter,
'Gainst Heav'n high treason 'tis, to make it lighter.
202
'Tis a Gold Chain, links soule and soule together
In perfect Vnity, tyes God to either.
In perfect Vnity, tyes God to either.
Affliction is the touch, whereby we prove,
Whether't be Gold, or gilt with fained Love.
Whether't be Gold, or gilt with fained Love.
The wisest Moralist, that ever div'd
Into the depth of Natures bowels, striv'd
With th'Augur of Experience, to bore
Mens hearts so farre, till he had found the Ore
Of Friendship, but, despairing of his end,
My friends (said he) there is no perfect Friend.
Into the depth of Natures bowels, striv'd
With th'Augur of Experience, to bore
Mens hearts so farre, till he had found the Ore
Of Friendship, but, despairing of his end,
My friends (said he) there is no perfect Friend.
Friendship's like Musicke, two strings tun'd alike,
Will both stirre, though but onely one you strike.
Will both stirre, though but onely one you strike.
It is the quintessence of all perfection
Extracted into one: A sweet connexion
Of all the Vertues Morall and Divine,
Abstracted into one. It is a Mine,
Whose nature is not rich, unlesse in making
The state of others wealthy by partaking:
Extracted into one: A sweet connexion
Of all the Vertues Morall and Divine,
Abstracted into one. It is a Mine,
Whose nature is not rich, unlesse in making
The state of others wealthy by partaking:
It bloomes and blossomes both in Sun and shade,
Doth (like the Bay in winter) never fade:
It loveth all, and yet suspecteth none,
Is provident, yet seeketh not her owne:
'Tis rare it selfe, yet maketh all things common,
And is judicious, yet it judgeth no man.
Doth (like the Bay in winter) never fade:
It loveth all, and yet suspecteth none,
Is provident, yet seeketh not her owne:
'Tis rare it selfe, yet maketh all things common,
And is judicious, yet it judgeth no man.
The noble Theban, being asked which
Of three (propounded) he suppos'd most rich
In vertues sacred treasure, thus reply'd:
Till they be dead, that doubt cannot be tryde.
Of three (propounded) he suppos'd most rich
In vertues sacred treasure, thus reply'd:
Till they be dead, that doubt cannot be tryde.
It is no wisemans part to weigh a Friend,
Without the glosse and goodnesse of his End:
For Life, without the death considered, can
Afford but halfe a Story of the Man.
Without the glosse and goodnesse of his End:
For Life, without the death considered, can
Afford but halfe a Story of the Man.
'Tis not my friends affliction, that shall make
Me either Wonder, Censure, or Forsake:
Iudgement belongs to Fooles; enough that I
Find he's afflicted, not enquier, why:
It is the hand of Heaven, that selfe-same sorrow
Grieves him to day, may make me grone to morrow
Me either Wonder, Censure, or Forsake:
203
Find he's afflicted, not enquier, why:
It is the hand of Heaven, that selfe-same sorrow
Grieves him to day, may make me grone to morrow
Heaven be my comfort; In my highest griefe,
I will not trust to Mans, but Thy reliefe.
I will not trust to Mans, but Thy reliefe.
| Divine poems | |