Poemata sacra :: :: University of Virginia Library

Gods tablet was a Soul; in that he drew,
None but the intellectuall eye could view:
Mans is a bodie: then this difference spie;
God paints to th'intellect, weak man to th'eye.

God did no other colours use but white;
And that was innocence, temper'd with bright
Rayes of his Deitie: man mixes black:
Mans colours do some of Gods colour lack.

God did his picture without shadow make;
His pencill shed no darknesse: man doth take
Most glory to shade well: then God is said
To excell man as substance doth a shade.

God's good, and like himself did he limme man:
Man's sinfull, and limme like himself he can:
So in comparing is this difference had;
God's the good Painter, sinfull man the bad.

Thus pictur'd God his beauty on the soul:
Mans body to this Venus was the mole.

The Riddles.

My pen mounting on wing, one did appeare,
And whisper'd me these Riddles in my eare;
Mortall, saith he, I see what thou wouldst have:
Search for a dead mans spirit in his grave:
Go forth in shade of darkest night, and say
Thy bus'nesse is to look about for day:
Walk in December to heare linnets sing,
To pluck the youthfull posie of a spring:
Look in thy Ladies mirrour for her face,
While she is flitting to some other place:
Follow the nimble dove, and pointing say
Where she did wing't through the diaphane way:
Go trace the fishes path, tell where they have
Stept on the fluid surface of a wave:

Go up and shew me where the lightning stood
After the first bright kisse upon a cloud:
Shew me the leaves of stone th'Almighties pen
First writ on in the flaming mount; and then
Measure the path to Euphrates sad banks:
Ask for the garden at those weeping tanks;
Then for the tree and the unluckie bough
Where the first sin hung and was pluckt: And now
Gaze up to see the starre the heav'ns did hatch
To light the Eastern wisdome to the cratch:
Do these, I shall beleeve there's one that can
Shew me the Picture of a God in man.