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 |  |
95
IV.
My Flesh trembleth for fear of thee, and I am afraid of thy Judgments,
Psal. cxix 120.
A dread of Heav'n was by the Ancients taught,
As the first Impress on Man's infant Thought,
And he who understood it best, has said,
'Tis the prime Step that does to Wisdom lead.
Inform'd by this my early Childhood grew,
And to fear Heav'n was the first thing I knew:
But still such dark Oblivion dull'd my Mind,
I could not the repeated Alpha find.
No Stripes can punish my neglectful Crime,
Thus unimprov'd t'have trifled out my Time.
Dull Boys by Stripes with Learning are inspir'd,
By little Pains, with Industry acquir'd:
When twice or thrice they read their Letters o're,
They're as familiar as if known before:
And tho' in Colour all alike appear,
Each is distinguish'd by its Character.
May I not hope Age will compleat in me
The easie Task of tender Infancy?
96
Too apt, (alas!) to Practise them untaught.
Why is not Fear as soon imbib'd, a Rule
So oft explain'd in Arts Improving School?
What I should slight, still (to my shame) I fear,
And slight that most, which I shou'd most revere.
I fear Mans Eye when I wou'd act a Sin,
But dread not Heav'n, nor the great Judge within:
For my gross Body I am still in fear,
But my pure Soul partakes not of my Care.
Thus silly Birds a harmless Scare-crow shun;
Yet boldly to the fatal Lime twigs run.
The Royal Stag thus Feathers frighten more,
Than the full cry of Hounds, that's just before.
Thus the fierce Lion, of false Fires afraid,
Flies to the Toils, in which he is betray'd.
Such Vanity has Men's dark Minds o'respread.
That less the Thunder than the Clap they dread;
Think Hell a Fable, an invented Name,
And count its Fire a harmless lambent Flame.
With brutish Rage to blackest Ills they run,
And never fear the Wickedness, till done:
But tho' this Fear did not their Crimes prevent,
'Twill come, too sure, to be their Punishment.
Then with strange Frights, from their lost Senses driv'n,
Their restless Thoughts run on offended Heav'n:
97
And call them from their lonely Beds to arm,
While their own Shadows only do them harm.
Each little thing's so magnify'd by Fear,
They dread a Lion, when a Mouse they hear.
If in the Night they hear a gentle Breeze
Begin to wisper in the murmuring Trees,
With Hair erect, and cold unnatural Sweat,
They shrink beneath the conscious Coverlet.
What do they then, when glaring Lightnings fly,
And bellowing Thunders roll along the Sky?
They think each Flash a Messenger of Death,
And at each Crack despair of longer Breath;
At every Noise they in new Fears engage,
And Ruin from each Accident presage;
Nay, ev'n of Silence, and its self afraid:
The troubled Mind's eternally dismay'd.
Such Punishments attend afflicting Guilt,
Which never Pain like its own Torments felt.
Thus trembling Cain dreads from each Hand he sees
The Fate his injur'd Brother had from his.
His crimson Soul, with Abel's Murther stain'd,
Still with the bloody Scene is entertain'd.
No more severe Correction waits on Sin,
Than its unbrib'd Upbraider still within.
98
My Fury wants this kind Restriction still.
Fear timely comes before a Fault's begun,
He fears too late, that fears not till 'tis done.
99
The Holy Psalmist desires wisely to be smitten, and healthfully to be wounded, when he prays to be Transfix'd with the fear of God; for that fear is an excellent Dart, that wounds and destroys the Lusts of the Flesh, that the Spirit may be safe.
Bernard. Serm. 26.
| Pia Desideria | |