 | Poems (1872) |  |
316
ODE.
[Vengeance will sitt aboue our faults; but till]
Vengeance will sitt aboue our faults; but till
She there do sytt,
We see her not, nor them. Thus blynd, yet still
Wee lead her way; and thus whilst we doe ill,
Wee suffer it.
She there do sytt,
We see her not, nor them. Thus blynd, yet still
Wee lead her way; and thus whilst we doe ill,
Wee suffer it.
Unhappy hee whom youth makes not beware
Of doinge ill:
Enough we labour under age and care;
In number th'errors of the last place are
The greatest still.
Of doinge ill:
Enough we labour under age and care;
In number th'errors of the last place are
The greatest still.
Yet wee, that should the ill we new begin
As soone repent—
Strange thing—perceiue not; our faults are not seene,
But past us, neither felt, but only in
Our punishment.
As soone repent—
Strange thing—perceiue not; our faults are not seene,
But past us, neither felt, but only in
Our punishment.
317
But we know ourselves least; meere outward showes
Our mynds so store,
That our sowles, noe more then our eyes, disclose
But forme and colour. Only hee who knowes
Himselfe knowes more.
Our mynds so store,
That our sowles, noe more then our eyes, disclose
But forme and colour. Only hee who knowes
Himselfe knowes more.
| Poems (1872) | |