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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| XIV. |
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| XIII. | XIII. |
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 | Pia Desideria |  |
139
XIII.
But it is good for me to hold me fast by God, to put my Trust in the Lord God,
Psal. lxxiii. 27.
Thro' what strange turns of Fortune have I gone,
Just as a Ball from Hand to Hand is thrown?
Wars loud Allarms were first my sole Delight,
And hope of Glory led me out to Fight:
Arms rais'd my Courage, Arms were all my care,
As if I had no other Bus'ness here.
Oft with a Song I past my tedious Hour,
While I stood Centry on some lofty Tow'r:
Oft I the Enemies Intent betray'd,
And shew'd their Motions by the Signs I made.
I learnt t'intrench a Camp, and Bulwarks rear,
With all the Cunning of an Engineer.
I ever forward was, and bold in Fight,
And did to Action the faint Troops Excite.
None better understood the Art of War,
None more the Soldiers or Commanders Care:
Oft in the Lybian Desart did I Sweat,
Tir'd with the Sand, and melted with the Heat;
Choak'd with the Dust, yet no kind Fountain nigh,
The Place as little Moisture had as I.
Just as a Ball from Hand to Hand is thrown?
Wars loud Allarms were first my sole Delight,
And hope of Glory led me out to Fight:
Arms rais'd my Courage, Arms were all my care,
As if I had no other Bus'ness here.
Oft with a Song I past my tedious Hour,
While I stood Centry on some lofty Tow'r:
Oft I the Enemies Intent betray'd,
And shew'd their Motions by the Signs I made.
I learnt t'intrench a Camp, and Bulwarks rear,
With all the Cunning of an Engineer.
I ever forward was, and bold in Fight,
And did to Action the faint Troops Excite.
None better understood the Art of War,
None more the Soldiers or Commanders Care:
Oft in the Lybian Desart did I Sweat,
Tir'd with the Sand, and melted with the Heat;
140
The Place as little Moisture had as I.
How oft have I swam mighty Rivers o'er,
With heavy Armour loaden, tir'd, and sore?
And still my Sword across my Mouth have laid,
Whene'er I did the adverse Stream invade.
Thus long the Camp has had my Company,
A Foot-man first, then of the Cavalry.
My Breast-plate has ten Shots of Arrows born,
Nor fewer Stroaks my batter'd Helmet torn.
Thrice was my Horse shot under me, my Crest
Four times struck off, and I as oft Distrest.
Yet boldly I expos'd my Self to harm,
And in my En'mies Blood my Hand was warm.
But on my Back I did no Wounds receive,
My ready Breast met all my Foes durst give:
For boldly against Fire and Sword I stood,
And flights of Arrows which the Sky did cloud:
On Heads of Men, slain by my Sword I trod,
And as I mov'd, my ways with Corps I strow'd.
But yet the Man that did these Conquests gain,
Cou'd not, with all his Pow'r, his Wish obtain;
With all his Lawrels won, and Foes o'er-come,
His Crowns deserv'd, and Trophies too brought home:
One Fault did all his former Triumphs blast,
And blotted out their Memory at last.
The General cashier'd me with a Word,
And o'er my Head broke my once useful Sword.
And thus in publick Scorn my Fame expir'd,
With the dear Purchase of my Blood acquir'd;
O my dear God! had I born Arms for Thee,
Thy Favour had not thus deserted me.
What Hopes are plac'd on Thee can never fail,
Firm as an Anchor fix'd within the Vail.
Behind thy Altar then I'll lay my Arms,
And bid a long Adieu to War's Allarm's.
But soon my Mind on Gain was all intent,
Gain to my Thoughts such Sweets did represent.
A Ship I bought, which when I Fraighted well,
Abroad I steer'd, to Purchase and to Sell.
In both the Indies I expos'd my Ware,
No Port was known but I had Trafick there:
For from small Ventures, large Acquests to gain,
Was all the busie Study of my Brain.
Wealth now came flowing in with such a Tide,
It wou'd not in my strained Chests abide.
My Ships came loaden from the Indian-shoar;
But next return they Perish'd at my Door.
My Books with Debtors Names still larger grew;
But they Forswore, and so I lost my Due.
Thus Salt, made in the Sea, does there decay,
Thus where 'twas gain'd, my Wealth all melts away
With heavy Armour loaden, tir'd, and sore?
And still my Sword across my Mouth have laid,
Whene'er I did the adverse Stream invade.
Thus long the Camp has had my Company,
A Foot-man first, then of the Cavalry.
My Breast-plate has ten Shots of Arrows born,
Nor fewer Stroaks my batter'd Helmet torn.
Thrice was my Horse shot under me, my Crest
Four times struck off, and I as oft Distrest.
Yet boldly I expos'd my Self to harm,
And in my En'mies Blood my Hand was warm.
But on my Back I did no Wounds receive,
My ready Breast met all my Foes durst give:
For boldly against Fire and Sword I stood,
And flights of Arrows which the Sky did cloud:
On Heads of Men, slain by my Sword I trod,
And as I mov'd, my ways with Corps I strow'd.
But yet the Man that did these Conquests gain,
Cou'd not, with all his Pow'r, his Wish obtain;
With all his Lawrels won, and Foes o'er-come,
His Crowns deserv'd, and Trophies too brought home:
141
And blotted out their Memory at last.
The General cashier'd me with a Word,
And o'er my Head broke my once useful Sword.
And thus in publick Scorn my Fame expir'd,
With the dear Purchase of my Blood acquir'd;
O my dear God! had I born Arms for Thee,
Thy Favour had not thus deserted me.
What Hopes are plac'd on Thee can never fail,
Firm as an Anchor fix'd within the Vail.
Behind thy Altar then I'll lay my Arms,
And bid a long Adieu to War's Allarm's.
But soon my Mind on Gain was all intent,
Gain to my Thoughts such Sweets did represent.
A Ship I bought, which when I Fraighted well,
Abroad I steer'd, to Purchase and to Sell.
In both the Indies I expos'd my Ware,
No Port was known but I had Trafick there:
For from small Ventures, large Acquests to gain,
Was all the busie Study of my Brain.
Wealth now came flowing in with such a Tide,
It wou'd not in my strained Chests abide.
My Ships came loaden from the Indian-shoar;
But next return they Perish'd at my Door.
My Books with Debtors Names still larger grew;
But they Forswore, and so I lost my Due.
142
Thus where 'twas gain'd, my Wealth all melts away
How peaceful is the Man, and how secure,
Whom War did ne'er delight, nor Gain Allure?
No more shall Gain my cheated Fancy please,
That cannot purchase one short Minutes Ease.
What shall I do, since my Attempts are vain?
In War, no Fame; in Trade, no Wealth I gain?
Then to the Court I hastily repair,
My Fame as soon finds kind Reception there.
I'm brought before the King, and kiss his Hand,
He likes my Person, gives me a Command.
Now grown his Fav'rite, I have all his Ear;
Whate'er I Speak, he eagerly does Hear:
And to new Honours does me still Advance,
Not the effect of Merit, but of Chance.
But, whether his Mistake, or my Desert,
I'm now indear'd, and wound into his Heart.
Oft in Discourse we spent the busie Day,
And ne'er regarded how it past away.
Nay, without me, he wou'd not Play nor Eat,
My Presence gave a Relish to his Meat:
No Fav'rite e'er was dearer to his Prince;
No Prince such Favours ever did Dispense.
Sejanus rul'd not thus his Master's Heart;
His wary Lord allow'd him but a Part:
Nor Clytu's self cou'd greater Honours have,
Tho' the World's Conqu'ror was almost his Slave.
This new Advancement pleas'd my Thoughts, 'tis true,
(For there are secret Charms in all things new.)
The Courtiers envy, and the Crowds admire
To see the King my Company desire.
But, oh! on Kings 'tis Folly to depend,
Whose Pow'r, much more their Favours, quickly end.
The King to Frowns does all his Smiles convert,
And as he lov'd, so hates, without desert.
His Favour sow'rs to Rage, and I am sent
Far from my Native Soil to Banishment.
My fall to Hist'ry adds one Story more,
A Story I for ever must deplore.
Sejanus had not a severer Fate,
Nor Clytu's Happiness a shorter Date.
O God! how great is their Security,
Whose Hopes and Wishes all are fix'd on Thee?
Whom War did ne'er delight, nor Gain Allure?
No more shall Gain my cheated Fancy please,
That cannot purchase one short Minutes Ease.
What shall I do, since my Attempts are vain?
In War, no Fame; in Trade, no Wealth I gain?
Then to the Court I hastily repair,
My Fame as soon finds kind Reception there.
I'm brought before the King, and kiss his Hand,
He likes my Person, gives me a Command.
Now grown his Fav'rite, I have all his Ear;
Whate'er I Speak, he eagerly does Hear:
And to new Honours does me still Advance,
Not the effect of Merit, but of Chance.
But, whether his Mistake, or my Desert,
I'm now indear'd, and wound into his Heart.
Oft in Discourse we spent the busie Day,
And ne'er regarded how it past away.
Nay, without me, he wou'd not Play nor Eat,
My Presence gave a Relish to his Meat:
No Fav'rite e'er was dearer to his Prince;
No Prince such Favours ever did Dispense.
143
His wary Lord allow'd him but a Part:
Nor Clytu's self cou'd greater Honours have,
Tho' the World's Conqu'ror was almost his Slave.
This new Advancement pleas'd my Thoughts, 'tis true,
(For there are secret Charms in all things new.)
The Courtiers envy, and the Crowds admire
To see the King my Company desire.
But, oh! on Kings 'tis Folly to depend,
Whose Pow'r, much more their Favours, quickly end.
The King to Frowns does all his Smiles convert,
And as he lov'd, so hates, without desert.
His Favour sow'rs to Rage, and I am sent
Far from my Native Soil to Banishment.
My fall to Hist'ry adds one Story more,
A Story I for ever must deplore.
Sejanus had not a severer Fate,
Nor Clytu's Happiness a shorter Date.
O God! how great is their Security,
Whose Hopes and Wishes all are fix'd on Thee?
Forsake all other Loves; he is fairer who Created Heaven and Earth.
Aug. in Psal. 36.
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