Pia Desideria or, Divine Addresses, In Three Books. Illustrated with XLVII. Copper-Plates. Written in Latin by Herm. Hugo. Englished by Edm. Arwaker ... The Fourth Edition, Corrected |
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 | Pia Desideria |  |
43
IX.
The pains of Hell came about me: The snares of Death overtook me,
Psal. xviii. 4.
While in this sad Distress my self I view,
Methinks I make that Heathen Fable true;
Of him whose bleeding mangled Carcass lay,
To his own Hounds expos'd a helpless Prey.
Long I the Pleasures of the Wood pursu'd,
Till, like its Beasts, my self grew wild and rude;
I hop'd with Hunting to divert my Care,
But almost fell my self into the Snare.
Methinks I make that Heathen Fable true;
Of him whose bleeding mangled Carcass lay,
To his own Hounds expos'd a helpless Prey.
Long I the Pleasures of the Wood pursu'd,
Till, like its Beasts, my self grew wild and rude;
I hop'd with Hunting to divert my Care,
But almost fell my self into the Snare.
Yet to those Woods (alas) I did not go,
Whose inn'cent Sports give Health and Pleasure too.
I spread no Toils to take the tim'rous Deer,
Nor aim'd my Javlin at the rugged Bear.
Happy, had I my Time so well imploy'd,
Nor had I been by my own Game destroy'd:
I had not then mis-spent my Youthful Days,
Nor torn my Flesh among sharp Thorny ways.
Whose inn'cent Sports give Health and Pleasure too.
I spread no Toils to take the tim'rous Deer,
Nor aim'd my Javlin at the rugged Bear.
Happy, had I my Time so well imploy'd,
Nor had I been by my own Game destroy'd:
I had not then mis-spent my Youthful Days,
Nor torn my Flesh among sharp Thorny ways.
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But I (alas!) still ply'd the sparkling Wine,
That poys'nous Juice of the pernicious Vine;
And this expos'd me to Love's fatal Dart,
The false betray'r of my unguarded Heart:
Thou Love, hast thy sly Nets, and subtle Charms;
Nor are thy Bow and Dart thy only Arms.
And treacherous Wine does fatal Weapons bear;
The Glass is more destructive than the Spear.
Thus Sampson, by his Delilah betray'd,
Was Hers, and then his En'mies Captive made:
Thus, when too freely Noah had us'd the Vine,
He who escap'd the Flood, lay drown'd in Wine.
That poys'nous Juice of the pernicious Vine;
And this expos'd me to Love's fatal Dart,
The false betray'r of my unguarded Heart:
Thou Love, hast thy sly Nets, and subtle Charms;
Nor are thy Bow and Dart thy only Arms.
And treacherous Wine does fatal Weapons bear;
The Glass is more destructive than the Spear.
Thus Sampson, by his Delilah betray'd,
Was Hers, and then his En'mies Captive made:
Thus, when too freely Noah had us'd the Vine,
He who escap'd the Flood, lay drown'd in Wine.
Thus Love, by me pursu'd (alas!) too fast,
Seiz'd my lost Soul, and prey'd on me at last;
Within whose close incircling Toils beset,
I seem'd a Beast just fall'n into the Net:
Destroy'd by what my Inclination sought,
As Birds by their frequented Lime-twigs caught;
For Death around, its subtle Nets does spread,
Fine as the texture of the Spiders Web:
And as perdue that watchful Robber lies,
His buzzing Prey the better to surprize;
But, taught by Motion when the Booty's nigh,
Leaps out, and seizes the entangled Fly:
Or as a Fowler, with his hidden Snare,
Contrives t'entrap the Racers of the Air;
While to conceal and further the Deceit,
He strows the Ground with his destructive Meat;
And fastens Birds of the same kind, to sing,
And weakly flutter on their captive Wing:
So Death the Wretch into his Snare decoys,
And with pretended Happiness destroys:
Above the Nets we think a leap to take,
But head-long drop into th'infernal Lake.
Seiz'd my lost Soul, and prey'd on me at last;
Within whose close incircling Toils beset,
I seem'd a Beast just fall'n into the Net:
Destroy'd by what my Inclination sought,
As Birds by their frequented Lime-twigs caught;
For Death around, its subtle Nets does spread,
Fine as the texture of the Spiders Web:
And as perdue that watchful Robber lies,
His buzzing Prey the better to surprize;
But, taught by Motion when the Booty's nigh,
Leaps out, and seizes the entangled Fly:
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Contrives t'entrap the Racers of the Air;
While to conceal and further the Deceit,
He strows the Ground with his destructive Meat;
And fastens Birds of the same kind, to sing,
And weakly flutter on their captive Wing:
So Death the Wretch into his Snare decoys,
And with pretended Happiness destroys:
Above the Nets we think a leap to take,
But head-long drop into th'infernal Lake.
The reward of Honours, the height of Power, the delicacy of Diet, and the beauty of an Harlot, are the snares of the Devil.
Amb. lib. 4. in cap. 4. Lucæ.
Whilst thou seekest Pleasures, thou runnest into Snares; for the Eye of the Harlot is the Snare of the Adulterer.
Idem, de bono mortis.
| Pia Desideria | |