Solomon's recantation Intituled Ecclesiastes, paraphras'd. With A Soliloquy or Meditation Upon Every Chapter. By Francis Quarles |
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 | CHAP. III. Solomon's recantation |  |
If Heaven's Decree thus bound the Works of Men,
What Profit gains the fruitless Worker then?
What boots our Travel, or those Works of ours,
If all our Plots depend on heav'nly Pow'rs?
Nor are our Actions, or their secret Ends
Govern'd by Chance; nor do our Works depend
On hoodwink'd Fortune; no, pleas'd Heaven thinks good
To exercise the Souls of Flesh and Blood:
What e'er he did, is fair, and timely done,
He gave the World for Man to muse upon:
Whose: Eye, with Admiration may discover
The Motion, not the Progress of the Mover.
I know, that from the Works of Flesh and Blood,
As they are Man's, there can arise no Good;
Unless perchance to qualify with Oyl
The Soul-afflicting Vin'gar of his Toyl;
Or if it happen that his Soul may eat
And drink, and reap the Harvest of his Sweat
To sweeten Sorrows, may we understand
It is a Gift from the Almighty's Hand:
I know that Heaven's Decree is seal'd, and free
From Alteration, a most firm Decree:
And so ordain'd, that the presumptuous Race
Of Man may fear the Majesty of his Face:
The thing that is, hath been; and what of old
Hath been, succeeding Ages shall behold:
The great Disposer keeps the self-same Track,
And calls his timely Revolutions back.
I view'd the Chair of Judgment, where I saw
Instead of Righteousness, perverted Law:
I view'd the Courts of Equity, and spy'd
Corruption there, and Justice warpt aside.
O then (thought I) the Judge of Heaven shall do
Right to the Wicked, and the Righteous too.
For there's a Time true Justice shall proceed
On ev'ry Purpose, upon every Deed.
Then puzzel'd in my Thoughts, I thus advis'd,
Heaven suffers Mortals to be exercis'd
In their own Miseries, that they may see
They're not more happy than the Sensuals be.
To Man and Beast the self-same Lots befal;
Man dies, so dies the Beast: Alas they all
Enjoy one Breath; what Royalties remain
To Man above a Beast? For both are vain;
Both travel to the self-same Place; both tend
Their Paces to the self-same Journies End:
The Substance of their Flesh is both the same,
But Dust, to Dust both turn from whence they came.
What curious Inquisitor doth know
The Place whereto ascending Souls do go?
Or can renown'd Philosophy declare
Whither the dying Spirits of Beasts repair?
This rightly weigh'd, it seems the better Choice
For Man to suck his Labours, and rejoice:
'Tis all the Portion he is like to have:
Who knows the Entertainments of the Grave?
What Profit gains the fruitless Worker then?
What boots our Travel, or those Works of ours,
If all our Plots depend on heav'nly Pow'rs?
Nor are our Actions, or their secret Ends
Govern'd by Chance; nor do our Works depend
On hoodwink'd Fortune; no, pleas'd Heaven thinks good
To exercise the Souls of Flesh and Blood:
What e'er he did, is fair, and timely done,
He gave the World for Man to muse upon:
Whose: Eye, with Admiration may discover
The Motion, not the Progress of the Mover.
I know, that from the Works of Flesh and Blood,
As they are Man's, there can arise no Good;
Unless perchance to qualify with Oyl
The Soul-afflicting Vin'gar of his Toyl;
Or if it happen that his Soul may eat
And drink, and reap the Harvest of his Sweat
To sweeten Sorrows, may we understand
It is a Gift from the Almighty's Hand:
I know that Heaven's Decree is seal'd, and free
From Alteration, a most firm Decree:
15
Of Man may fear the Majesty of his Face:
The thing that is, hath been; and what of old
Hath been, succeeding Ages shall behold:
The great Disposer keeps the self-same Track,
And calls his timely Revolutions back.
I view'd the Chair of Judgment, where I saw
Instead of Righteousness, perverted Law:
I view'd the Courts of Equity, and spy'd
Corruption there, and Justice warpt aside.
O then (thought I) the Judge of Heaven shall do
Right to the Wicked, and the Righteous too.
For there's a Time true Justice shall proceed
On ev'ry Purpose, upon every Deed.
Then puzzel'd in my Thoughts, I thus advis'd,
Heaven suffers Mortals to be exercis'd
In their own Miseries, that they may see
They're not more happy than the Sensuals be.
To Man and Beast the self-same Lots befal;
Man dies, so dies the Beast: Alas they all
Enjoy one Breath; what Royalties remain
To Man above a Beast? For both are vain;
Both travel to the self-same Place; both tend
Their Paces to the self-same Journies End:
The Substance of their Flesh is both the same,
But Dust, to Dust both turn from whence they came.
What curious Inquisitor doth know
The Place whereto ascending Souls do go?
Or can renown'd Philosophy declare
Whither the dying Spirits of Beasts repair?
This rightly weigh'd, it seems the better Choice
For Man to suck his Labours, and rejoice:
'Tis all the Portion he is like to have:
Who knows the Entertainments of the Grave?
| CHAP. III. Solomon's recantation | |