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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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
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| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| 2. |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| 3. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
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| XIII. | XIII. |
| XIV. |
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 | Pia Desideria |  |
223
XIII.
O that I had the wings of a Dove! for then I would fly away, and be at rest,
Psal. lv. 6.
Tho'
Great Creator! I receive from Thee
All that I am, and all I hope to be;
Yet might thy humble Clay Expostulate,
I wou'd complain of my defective State.
All that I am, and all I hope to be;
Yet might thy humble Clay Expostulate,
I wou'd complain of my defective State.
To Man th'ast given the boundless Regency
Of three vast Realms, the Ocean, Earth, and Sky:
But, oh; how shall this ample Pow'r be try'd,
When still the means to use it are deny'd?
Of three vast Realms, the Ocean, Earth, and Sky:
But, oh; how shall this ample Pow'r be try'd,
When still the means to use it are deny'd?
Pardon my hasty Censure of thy Skill,
Who think thy mighty Work defective still!
Nor am I forward to Correct thy Art,
By wishing Man a Casement in his Heart,
Whose dark Recesses all the World might see;
That prospect justly is reserv'd for Thee:
But the defect I Mourn is greater far;
Of Fins to cut the Waves, and Wings the Air.
Inferior Creatures no Perfection want,
To hinder their Enjoyment of Thy Grant:
The scaly Race have nimble Fins allow'd,
With which they range about their native Flood:
And all the feather'd Tenants of the Air,
Born up on tow'ring Wings, expatiate there.
Thus ev'ry Creature finds a blest Content
Adapted to its proper Element:
But Man, for the Command of all design'd,
Is still to One injuriously confin'd;
While Nature often is extravagant,
And gives his Subjects more than what they want.
Some of the watry kind, we know, can fly,
And visit, when they please, the lofty Sky;
And, in exchange, some of the aery Brood,
Descend, and turn bold Pirates in the Flood:
While still to Man Heav'n does all Means deny
To exercise his vain Authority.
Ev'n buzzing Insects with light Wings are blest,
In whose small frame Heav'n has much Art exprest:
But Man, the great, the noble Master piece,
Wants a Perfection that abounds in these.
Nay some, the meanest of the Feather'd kind,
For neither Profit nor Delight design'd,
Stretch their Dominions to a vast Extent,
Nor pleas'd with Two, range a third Element;
Sometimes on Earth they walk with stately Pace,
And sport and revel on the tender Grass;
Then for the liquid Stream exchange the Shoar,
And dally there as wanton as before:
But wearied, thence their moistned Wings they rear,
To take their wild Diversion in the Air.
Sure these to rule the triple World were sent,
And denizon'd of every Element:
But Man, excluded both the Sea and Air,
Can make small use of his Dominion there.
Nor yet repine I that the Earth's alone
Man's Element, since I desire but One;
My whole Ambition's to exchange my Place,
Tho' with the meanest of the feather'd Race.
Grant me but Wings that I may upwards soar,
I'll forfeit them if e'er I covet more.
Nor canst thou, Lord! my just Petition blame,
When thou regard'st the end of all my aim:
The Miseries below, and Joys above,
Recal from hence, and thither point my Love.
The Earth (alas!) no settled Station knows,
So fast the Deluge of its Ruin flows:
Numberless Troubles and Calamities
Increase the Flood, too apt it self to rise.
Tir'd with long Flight, my weary Soul can meet
No friendly Bough to entertain her Feet.
Here no blest sign of Peace or Plenty is;
All lie o'erwhelm'd in the profound Abyss.
O whither then shall I for safety go?
I must not hope so great a Good below.
Vainly to Honour or to Wealth I fly,
These cannot be their own Security;
My sole dependance is the Sacred Ark,
There, there my Soul in safety may embarque:
Thou send'st her thence, Lord, call her home again,
And stretch thy favouring Hand to take her in!
But she's (alas!) too weak for such a Flight,
Her flagging Wings are baffled by its height.
Wou'dst thou vouchsafe to imp them, she wou'd fly,
And brave the tow'ring Monarch of the Sky;
Then she wou'd haste to her eternal Rest,
And build above the Clouds her lofty Nest;
There basking in the splendor of thy Beams,
Be all imploy'd on bright Angelick Themes;
In which th'adulterate World shall have no part,
That sly Debaucher of my wandring Heart:
But in seraphick Flames for Thee I'll burn,
And never, never think of a Return.
Who think thy mighty Work defective still!
Nor am I forward to Correct thy Art,
By wishing Man a Casement in his Heart,
Whose dark Recesses all the World might see;
That prospect justly is reserv'd for Thee:
But the defect I Mourn is greater far;
Of Fins to cut the Waves, and Wings the Air.
224
To hinder their Enjoyment of Thy Grant:
The scaly Race have nimble Fins allow'd,
With which they range about their native Flood:
And all the feather'd Tenants of the Air,
Born up on tow'ring Wings, expatiate there.
Thus ev'ry Creature finds a blest Content
Adapted to its proper Element:
But Man, for the Command of all design'd,
Is still to One injuriously confin'd;
While Nature often is extravagant,
And gives his Subjects more than what they want.
Some of the watry kind, we know, can fly,
And visit, when they please, the lofty Sky;
And, in exchange, some of the aery Brood,
Descend, and turn bold Pirates in the Flood:
While still to Man Heav'n does all Means deny
To exercise his vain Authority.
Ev'n buzzing Insects with light Wings are blest,
In whose small frame Heav'n has much Art exprest:
But Man, the great, the noble Master piece,
Wants a Perfection that abounds in these.
Nay some, the meanest of the Feather'd kind,
For neither Profit nor Delight design'd,
Stretch their Dominions to a vast Extent,
Nor pleas'd with Two, range a third Element;
225
And sport and revel on the tender Grass;
Then for the liquid Stream exchange the Shoar,
And dally there as wanton as before:
But wearied, thence their moistned Wings they rear,
To take their wild Diversion in the Air.
Sure these to rule the triple World were sent,
And denizon'd of every Element:
But Man, excluded both the Sea and Air,
Can make small use of his Dominion there.
Nor yet repine I that the Earth's alone
Man's Element, since I desire but One;
My whole Ambition's to exchange my Place,
Tho' with the meanest of the feather'd Race.
Grant me but Wings that I may upwards soar,
I'll forfeit them if e'er I covet more.
Nor canst thou, Lord! my just Petition blame,
When thou regard'st the end of all my aim:
The Miseries below, and Joys above,
Recal from hence, and thither point my Love.
The Earth (alas!) no settled Station knows,
So fast the Deluge of its Ruin flows:
Numberless Troubles and Calamities
Increase the Flood, too apt it self to rise.
Tir'd with long Flight, my weary Soul can meet
No friendly Bough to entertain her Feet.
226
All lie o'erwhelm'd in the profound Abyss.
O whither then shall I for safety go?
I must not hope so great a Good below.
Vainly to Honour or to Wealth I fly,
These cannot be their own Security;
My sole dependance is the Sacred Ark,
There, there my Soul in safety may embarque:
Thou send'st her thence, Lord, call her home again,
And stretch thy favouring Hand to take her in!
But she's (alas!) too weak for such a Flight,
Her flagging Wings are baffled by its height.
Wou'dst thou vouchsafe to imp them, she wou'd fly,
And brave the tow'ring Monarch of the Sky;
Then she wou'd haste to her eternal Rest,
And build above the Clouds her lofty Nest;
There basking in the splendor of thy Beams,
Be all imploy'd on bright Angelick Themes;
In which th'adulterate World shall have no part,
That sly Debaucher of my wandring Heart:
But in seraphick Flames for Thee I'll burn,
And never, never think of a Return.
227
Nothing can fly but what is Pure, Light, and Subtile, and whose Purity is not corrupted by Intemperance, nor its Cheerfulness or Swiftness retarded by any Weight.
Amb. Hom. 7.
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