Divine poems Containing The History of Ionah. Ester. Iob. Sampson. Sions Sonets. Elegies. Written and newly augmented, by Fra: Quarles |
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Medita. 23.
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 | Divine poems |  |
Medita. 23.
Wages of sinne, is death. The day must come,
Wherin, the equall hand of death must sum
The severall Items of mans fading glory,
Into the easie totall of one Story:
The browes that sweat for Kingdomes and renown,
To glorifie their Temples with a Crowne;
At length, grow cold, and leave their honourd name
To flourish in th'uncertaine blast of Fame:
This is the heighth that glorious Mortalls can
Attaine; This is the highest pitch of Man:
The quilted Quarters of the Earths great Ball,
Whose unconfined limits were too small
For his extreame Ambition to deserve,
Six foote of length, and three of bredth must serve:
This is the highest pitch that Man can flie;
And after all his Triumph, he must die:
Wherin, the equall hand of death must sum
The severall Items of mans fading glory,
Into the easie totall of one Story:
The browes that sweat for Kingdomes and renown,
To glorifie their Temples with a Crowne;
At length, grow cold, and leave their honourd name
To flourish in th'uncertaine blast of Fame:
This is the heighth that glorious Mortalls can
Attaine; This is the highest pitch of Man:
The quilted Quarters of the Earths great Ball,
Whose unconfined limits were too small
For his extreame Ambition to deserve,
Six foote of length, and three of bredth must serve:
This is the highest pitch that Man can flie;
And after all his Triumph, he must die:
Lives he in Wealth? Does well deserved store
Limit his wish, that he can wish no more?
And does the fairest bounty of encrease
Crown him with plenty; and, his dayes with peace?
It is a right hand blessing; But supply
Of wealth cannot secure him; He must die:
Lives he in Pleasure? Does perpetuall mirth
Lend him a little Heaven upon his earth?
Meets he no sullen care, no sudden losse
To coole his joyes? Breathes hee without a crosse?
Wants he no pleasure, that his wanton eye
Can crave, or hope from fortune? He must dye:
Lives he in Honour? Hath his faire desart
Obtain'd the freedome of his Princes heart?
Or may his more familiar hands disburse
His liberall favors, from the royall purse?
Alas, his Honour cannot soare too high,
For palefac'd death to follow: He must dye:
Limit his wish, that he can wish no more?
And does the fairest bounty of encrease
Crown him with plenty; and, his dayes with peace?
It is a right hand blessing; But supply
Of wealth cannot secure him; He must die:
383
Lend him a little Heaven upon his earth?
Meets he no sullen care, no sudden losse
To coole his joyes? Breathes hee without a crosse?
Wants he no pleasure, that his wanton eye
Can crave, or hope from fortune? He must dye:
Lives he in Honour? Hath his faire desart
Obtain'd the freedome of his Princes heart?
Or may his more familiar hands disburse
His liberall favors, from the royall purse?
Alas, his Honour cannot soare too high,
For palefac'd death to follow: He must dye:
Lives he a Conqu'rour? And doth heaven blesse
His heart with spirit, that spirit, with successe;
Successe, with Glory; Glory, with a name,
To live with the Eternitie of Fame?
The progresse of his lasting fame may vye
With time; But yet the Conquerour must dye:
Great, and good God: Thou Lord of life and deth;
In whom, the Creature hath his being, breath;
Teach me to underprize this life, and I
Shall finde my losse the easier, when I dye;
So raise my feeble thoughts, and dull desire,
That when these vaine and weary dayes expire,
I may discard my flesh with joy, and quit
My better part, of this false earth; and it
Of some more sinne; and, for this transitory
And tedious life, enjoy a life of Glory.
His heart with spirit, that spirit, with successe;
Successe, with Glory; Glory, with a name,
To live with the Eternitie of Fame?
The progresse of his lasting fame may vye
With time; But yet the Conquerour must dye:
Great, and good God: Thou Lord of life and deth;
In whom, the Creature hath his being, breath;
Teach me to underprize this life, and I
Shall finde my losse the easier, when I dye;
So raise my feeble thoughts, and dull desire,
That when these vaine and weary dayes expire,
I may discard my flesh with joy, and quit
My better part, of this false earth; and it
Of some more sinne; and, for this transitory
And tedious life, enjoy a life of Glory.
| Divine poems | |