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 |  |
89
III.
O hold thou up my going in thy Paths, that my Footsteps slip not,
Psal. xvii. 5.
So oft will me my faithless Feet betray,
So often stumble in so plain a way?
O thou, who all our Steps from Heav'n dost see,
O hold me up, dear Lord, who lean on Thee.
So often stumble in so plain a way?
O thou, who all our Steps from Heav'n dost see,
O hold me up, dear Lord, who lean on Thee.
The Stork instructs her timerous Young to stray,
In hidden Tracts through Heav'ns wide pathless way:
Till the apt Brood, by bold Example led,
Perform the daring Flight they us'd to dread.
In hidden Tracts through Heav'ns wide pathless way:
Till the apt Brood, by bold Example led,
Perform the daring Flight they us'd to dread.
The Eagles teach their unfledg'd Young to fly,
Around th'untrodden Regions of the Sky.
Till for their Aid they now no longer care;
But fearless row, with feather'd Fins, thro' Seas of Air.
Thus Boys, when first they venture Streams unknown,
On Spungy Cork's light weight, support their own:
Till more improv'd, they their first help throw by,
Ambitious now alone the Floods to try.
And tho' a while, e'er they have Practis'd been,
Too often they'll unwelcome Draughts suck in;
Yet they, at length by use, Perfection gain,
And sport and play, wide-wandring in the Main.
Around th'untrodden Regions of the Sky.
Till for their Aid they now no longer care;
But fearless row, with feather'd Fins, thro' Seas of Air.
Thus Boys, when first they venture Streams unknown,
On Spungy Cork's light weight, support their own:
Till more improv'd, they their first help throw by,
Ambitious now alone the Floods to try.
90
Too often they'll unwelcome Draughts suck in;
Yet they, at length by use, Perfection gain,
And sport and play, wide-wandring in the Main.
Thou, who from Heav'n observ'st our Steps below,
See by what Arts thy Servant learns to go!
While all my weight on this slight Engine's laid,
I move the Wheels that do my Motion aid.
Thus feeble Age, supported by a Cane,
Is tir'd with that on which 'tis forc'd to lean.
But tho', dear Lord! ambiguous Terms I use,
I of no failure can my Feet accuse:
I can perceive no Imperfection there,
No rocky Ways, or thorny Roads they fear:
The weakness of my Mind disturbs me most,
Whose languid Feet have all their Motion lost:
All its Affections Lame and Bed-rid are,
(Those Feet, alas! which shou'd its Motion steer;)
When it shou'd move in Virtues easie road,
Alas! 'tis tir'd as soon as got abroad.
My frail, my bending Knees assistance need,
Weaker than Rushes, or the bruised Reed.
Sometimes, but rarely, it renews the Race,
And eagerly moves on, a Jehu's Pace:
But, weary of its Journey, scarce begun,
Its boasted Flame is all extinct, as soon
As smoaking Flax by rugged Whirlwinds blown.
Yet, lest I shou'd too much my Sloth betray,
I force my Steps and make some little way;
But then am cautious how my Feet I guide
Lest they shou'd chance to trip, or rove aside:
And the uncharitable World incline
To place it not on Weakness, but on Wine.
My reeling Steps move an indented pace,
As 'twere a Cripple halting o're a Race.
I will, I won't; I burn, all in a Breath;
And that's scarce out, e'er I'm as cold as Death:
And then, impatient at my fruitless Pain,
Tir'd in the mid-way, I return again:
Yet cannot then recover my first Place,
The pleasant Seat whence I began my Race.
Tost, like a Ship on the tempestuous Wave,
Which neither help of Sails nor Oars can save,
While with new vain Attemps I try again,
And would repair the Loss I did sustain,
The small Success too manifestly proves
My fruitless Labor in a Circle moves.
Thus Slaves, condemn'd to ply a toilsom Mill,
Repeat the same returning Motion still:
Tho' still the restless Engine's hurry'd round,
They by its haste gain not one Foot of Ground.
See by what Arts thy Servant learns to go!
While all my weight on this slight Engine's laid,
I move the Wheels that do my Motion aid.
Thus feeble Age, supported by a Cane,
Is tir'd with that on which 'tis forc'd to lean.
But tho', dear Lord! ambiguous Terms I use,
I of no failure can my Feet accuse:
I can perceive no Imperfection there,
No rocky Ways, or thorny Roads they fear:
The weakness of my Mind disturbs me most,
Whose languid Feet have all their Motion lost:
All its Affections Lame and Bed-rid are,
(Those Feet, alas! which shou'd its Motion steer;)
When it shou'd move in Virtues easie road,
Alas! 'tis tir'd as soon as got abroad.
My frail, my bending Knees assistance need,
Weaker than Rushes, or the bruised Reed.
Sometimes, but rarely, it renews the Race,
And eagerly moves on, a Jehu's Pace:
91
Its boasted Flame is all extinct, as soon
As smoaking Flax by rugged Whirlwinds blown.
Yet, lest I shou'd too much my Sloth betray,
I force my Steps and make some little way;
But then am cautious how my Feet I guide
Lest they shou'd chance to trip, or rove aside:
And the uncharitable World incline
To place it not on Weakness, but on Wine.
My reeling Steps move an indented pace,
As 'twere a Cripple halting o're a Race.
I will, I won't; I burn, all in a Breath;
And that's scarce out, e'er I'm as cold as Death:
And then, impatient at my fruitless Pain,
Tir'd in the mid-way, I return again:
Yet cannot then recover my first Place,
The pleasant Seat whence I began my Race.
Tost, like a Ship on the tempestuous Wave,
Which neither help of Sails nor Oars can save,
While with new vain Attemps I try again,
And would repair the Loss I did sustain,
The small Success too manifestly proves
My fruitless Labor in a Circle moves.
Thus Slaves, condemn'd to ply a toilsom Mill,
Repeat the same returning Motion still:
92
They by its haste gain not one Foot of Ground.
What shall I do, a Stranger to the Race,
Whose lazy Feet scarce move a Snails slow Pace?
Heav'n lies remote from this mean Globe below,
None but the swift and strong can thither go;
What then shall this my heavy Chariot do?
Whose lazy Feet scarce move a Snails slow Pace?
Heav'n lies remote from this mean Globe below,
None but the swift and strong can thither go;
What then shall this my heavy Chariot do?
Thy Footsteps, Lord, o'recome the roughest way;
A Gyant's Feet move not so swift as they.
Thou with a Step dost East and West divide,
And o're the World, like a Colossus, stride.
A Gyant's Feet move not so swift as they.
Thou with a Step dost East and West divide,
And o're the World, like a Colossus, stride.
But like the Tortoise, my dull Foot's delay'd,
Or rather like the Crab, moves retrograde.
How can I then hope to that Goal to run,
I make the Bus'ness of my Life to shun?
But do thou, Lord, my trembling Feet sustain,
Then I the Race and the Reward shall gain.
Or rather like the Crab, moves retrograde.
How can I then hope to that Goal to run,
I make the Bus'ness of my Life to shun?
But do thou, Lord, my trembling Feet sustain,
Then I the Race and the Reward shall gain.
93
Who among so many Troubles of the Body, among so many Allurements of the World, can keep a safe and unerring Course?
Amb. de fuga fæculi, cap. 1.
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