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 |  |
83
II.
O that my ways were made so direct, that I might keep thy Statutes!
Psal. cxix. 5.
In what a maze of Error do I stray,
Where various Paths confound my doubtful Way!
This, to the Right; That to the Left-hand lies:
Here, Vales descend; there swelling Mountains rise:
This has an easie, That a rugged way;
The treach'ry This conceals, That does betray.
But Whither these so diff'rent Courses go,
Their wandring Paths forbid, till try'd, to know.
Mæander's Stream a streighter Motion steers,
Tho' with himself the Wand'rer interferes.
Not the fictitious Labyrinth of old
Did in more dubious Paths its Guests infold;
Here greater Difficulties stay my Feet,
And on each Road I thwarting Dangers meet.
Nor I the diff'rent windings only fear,
(In which the Artist's Skill did most appear:)
But, more to heighten and increase my Dread,
Darkness involves each doubtful Step I tread.
No friendly Tracts my wandring Foot-steps guide,
Nor other Feet th'untrodden Ground have try'd;
And, tho', lest on some fatal Rock I run,
With out-stretcht Arms I grope my Passage on;
Yet dare I not through Night and Danger stray,
They'arrest my cautious Steps, and stop my Way.
Like a strange Trav'ller by the Sun forsook,
And in a Road unknown by Night o're-took,
In whose lone Paths no Neighb'ring Swains reside,
No friendly Star appears to be his Guide,
No sign or tract by humane Foot-steps worn,
But solitary all, and all forlorn.
He knows not but each blind-fold Step he treads
To some wild Desart or fierce River leads:
Then calls aloud, and his hoarse Voice does strain,
In hope of Answer from some Neighb'ring Swain;
While nought but cheating Eccho calls again.
Where various Paths confound my doubtful Way!
This, to the Right; That to the Left-hand lies:
Here, Vales descend; there swelling Mountains rise:
This has an easie, That a rugged way;
The treach'ry This conceals, That does betray.
But Whither these so diff'rent Courses go,
Their wandring Paths forbid, till try'd, to know.
Mæander's Stream a streighter Motion steers,
Tho' with himself the Wand'rer interferes.
Not the fictitious Labyrinth of old
Did in more dubious Paths its Guests infold;
Here greater Difficulties stay my Feet,
And on each Road I thwarting Dangers meet.
Nor I the diff'rent windings only fear,
(In which the Artist's Skill did most appear:)
But, more to heighten and increase my Dread,
Darkness involves each doubtful Step I tread.
84
Nor other Feet th'untrodden Ground have try'd;
And, tho', lest on some fatal Rock I run,
With out-stretcht Arms I grope my Passage on;
Yet dare I not through Night and Danger stray,
They'arrest my cautious Steps, and stop my Way.
Like a strange Trav'ller by the Sun forsook,
And in a Road unknown by Night o're-took,
In whose lone Paths no Neighb'ring Swains reside,
No friendly Star appears to be his Guide,
No sign or tract by humane Foot-steps worn,
But solitary all, and all forlorn.
He knows not but each blind-fold Step he treads
To some wild Desart or fierce River leads:
Then calls aloud, and his hoarse Voice does strain,
In hope of Answer from some Neighb'ring Swain;
While nought but cheating Eccho calls again.
Oh! who will help a Wretch thus gone astray!
What friendly Star direct my dubious way?
A glorious Cloud conducted Israel's Flight,
By Day their Cov'ring, as their Guide by Night.
The Eastern Kings found Bethlem too from far,
Led by the shining Conduct of a Star;
Nor cou'd they in their tedious Journey Err,
Who had so bright a Fellow-Traveller.
What friendly Star direct my dubious way?
A glorious Cloud conducted Israel's Flight,
By Day their Cov'ring, as their Guide by Night.
The Eastern Kings found Bethlem too from far,
Led by the shining Conduct of a Star;
Nor cou'd they in their tedious Journey Err,
Who had so bright a Fellow-Traveller.
85
Be thou no less Propitious Lord, to me,
Since all my Bus'ness is to Worship Thee.
See how the wand'ring Croud mistake their way,
And, tost about by their own Error, stray!
This tumbles head-long from an unseen Hill;
That lights on a blind Path, and wanders still.
With Haste, but not Good Speed, this hurries on;
That moves no faster than a Snail might run.
While to and fro another hasts in vain,
No sooner in the right, than out again.
Hear One walks on alone, whose boasted Skill,
Invites Another to attend him still;
Till among Thorns or miry Pools they tread;
This by his Guide, that by Himself misled.
Here One in a perpetual Circle moves,
Another, there, in endless Mazes roves;
And when he thinks his weary Ramble done,
He finds (alas!) he has but just begun.
Thus still, in Droves, the blinded Rabble stray,
Scarce one Thousand keeps or finds the way.
Since all my Bus'ness is to Worship Thee.
See how the wand'ring Croud mistake their way,
And, tost about by their own Error, stray!
This tumbles head-long from an unseen Hill;
That lights on a blind Path, and wanders still.
With Haste, but not Good Speed, this hurries on;
That moves no faster than a Snail might run.
While to and fro another hasts in vain,
No sooner in the right, than out again.
Hear One walks on alone, whose boasted Skill,
Invites Another to attend him still;
Till among Thorns or miry Pools they tread;
This by his Guide, that by Himself misled.
Here One in a perpetual Circle moves,
Another, there, in endless Mazes roves;
And when he thinks his weary Ramble done,
He finds (alas!) he has but just begun.
Thus still, in Droves, the blinded Rabble stray,
Scarce one Thousand keeps or finds the way.
O that my Ways directed were by Thee,
From the deceits of baneful Error free!
Till all my Motion, like a Dart's, became
Swift as its Flight, unerring as its Aim,
That where thy Laws require me to Obey,
I may not loiter, nor mistake the Way.
Then be Thou, Lord, the Bow, thy Law the White,
And I the Arrow destin'd for the Flight:
And when thou'rt pleas'd to shew thy greatest Skill,
Make me the polish'd Shaft t'obey thy Will.
From the deceits of baneful Error free!
Till all my Motion, like a Dart's, became
Swift as its Flight, unerring as its Aim,
86
I may not loiter, nor mistake the Way.
Then be Thou, Lord, the Bow, thy Law the White,
And I the Arrow destin'd for the Flight:
And when thou'rt pleas'd to shew thy greatest Skill,
Make me the polish'd Shaft t'obey thy Will.
87
O Lord, who art the Light, the Way, the Truth, and the Life; in whom there is no Darkness, Error, Vanity, or Death. Say the word, O Lord, let there be Light, that I may see the Light, and shun the Darkness; that I may find the right way, and avoid the wrong; that I may follow Truth, and flee from Vanity; that I may obtain Life, and escape Death.
Aug. Soliloq. cap. 4.
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