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 |  |
I.
With my Soul have I desired thee in the Night,
Isa. xxvi. 9.
How do my wandring Thoughts mistake their way,
And in a Maze of darksom Errors stray?
Lost in whose dismal Lab'rinth, I conclude
Th'Ægyptian Plague is in my Soul renew'd.
All cloudy, fearful, horrid; not one spark
Of Day; a Night for Night it self too dark.
No Scythian or Cimmerian Sky so black,
Tho' Heav'n's bright Lamps those gloomy Shades forsake;
Ev'n Hell, where Night in sable Triumph dwells,
Yields to the Terror of my darker Cells:
For tho' no fav'ouring Star imparts its Light,
To banish thence the thick substantial Night,
Yet there so much their Punishment they feel,
As will not let them be insensible:
There the sad Shades bewail their want of Light;
And ev'n the dim Cimmerians see 'tis Night,
And, when the Scythians six dark Moons have spent,
Th'expected Day returns from Banishment.
And in a Maze of darksom Errors stray?
Lost in whose dismal Lab'rinth, I conclude
Th'Ægyptian Plague is in my Soul renew'd.
All cloudy, fearful, horrid; not one spark
Of Day; a Night for Night it self too dark.
No Scythian or Cimmerian Sky so black,
Tho' Heav'n's bright Lamps those gloomy Shades forsake;
Ev'n Hell, where Night in sable Triumph dwells,
Yields to the Terror of my darker Cells:
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To banish thence the thick substantial Night,
Yet there so much their Punishment they feel,
As will not let them be insensible:
There the sad Shades bewail their want of Light;
And ev'n the dim Cimmerians see 'tis Night,
And, when the Scythians six dark Moons have spent,
Th'expected Day returns from Banishment.
But I am to eternal Night confin'd,
And what shou'd guide me, is it self struck blind.
There's not one glim'ering Beam that dares invade
The setled Horror of the gloomy Shade.
Nor can I hope but that I still must stray,
Since I perceive not how I lose my way;
But love th'unhappy Darkness where I err,
And Nights foul Shades, to Days bright Lamp prefer.
For Prides false light misguides my wandring mind,
And vain Ambition strikes my Judgment blind:
Loves soft Enchantments my weak Heart entice;
His foolish Fires delude my dazled Eyes.
When these black Images my thoughts possess,
The darkness and the horror still increase.
My Eyes have their successive Night and Day,
And Heav'n allows Them an alternate Sway:
Oh! that my Soul as happy were as They!
That Reason jointly might with Will preside,
Whose Office 'tis the stragling Mind to guide!
And what shou'd guide me, is it self struck blind.
There's not one glim'ering Beam that dares invade
The setled Horror of the gloomy Shade.
Nor can I hope but that I still must stray,
Since I perceive not how I lose my way;
But love th'unhappy Darkness where I err,
And Nights foul Shades, to Days bright Lamp prefer.
For Prides false light misguides my wandring mind,
And vain Ambition strikes my Judgment blind:
Loves soft Enchantments my weak Heart entice;
His foolish Fires delude my dazled Eyes.
When these black Images my thoughts possess,
The darkness and the horror still increase.
My Eyes have their successive Night and Day,
And Heav'n allows Them an alternate Sway:
Oh! that my Soul as happy were as They!
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Whose Office 'tis the stragling Mind to guide!
They more are griev'd who cannot use their Sight,
Than they, who never yet enjoy'd the Light;
And he that in Night's Shades has lost his Way,
Salutes with greater Joy th'approaching Day:
But that's a Night too tedious to be born,
Which never will admit the grateful Morn.
Than they, who never yet enjoy'd the Light;
And he that in Night's Shades has lost his Way,
Salutes with greater Joy th'approaching Day:
But that's a Night too tedious to be born,
Which never will admit the grateful Morn.
When the bright Sun returns to cheer our Eyes,
We haste, like Persians, to adore his Rise;
Thither our early Homage we address,
And strive who first shall his kind Influence bless.
Thus oft, on high, I Heav'ns bright Orb survey'd
From Pole to Pole, and thus as oft have pray'd;
Shine, shine, my Sun, bright Object of my Song,
Thou that hast left my watchful Eyes too long:
Rise, rise, or half thy beauteous Face display!
If that's too much, indulge me one short Ray.
Yet, if that Bliss is too sublime for me,
O let it be enough to've wish'd for Thee!
We haste, like Persians, to adore his Rise;
Thither our early Homage we address,
And strive who first shall his kind Influence bless.
Thus oft, on high, I Heav'ns bright Orb survey'd
From Pole to Pole, and thus as oft have pray'd;
Shine, shine, my Sun, bright Object of my Song,
Thou that hast left my watchful Eyes too long:
Rise, rise, or half thy beauteous Face display!
If that's too much, indulge me one short Ray.
Yet, if that Bliss is too sublime for me,
O let it be enough to've wish'd for Thee!
The World has its Nights, and those not a few. Alas! why do I say its Nights; since it self is almost one continual Night, and always overspread with Darkness?
Bernard in Cant. Serm. 75.
| Pia Desideria | |