صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

Her brother's wealth, and orbs her silver face.
But, ah! my sun, deep swallow'd in his fall,
Is set, and cannot shine, nor rise at all:
My bankrupt wain can beg nor borrow light;
Alas! my darkness is perpetual night.
Falls have their risings; wanings have their primes,
And desperate sorrows wait their better times:
Ebbs have their floods; and autumns have their
springs;

All states have changes, hurried with the swings
Of chance and time, still riding to and fro:
Terrestrial bodies, and celestial too.
How often have I vainly groped about,
With lengthen'd arms, to find a passage out,
That I might catch those beams mine eye desires,
And bathe my soul in these celestial fires!
Like as the haggard, cloister'd in her mew,
To scour her downy robes, and to renew
Her broken flags, preparing t' overlook
The timorous mallard at the sliding brook,
Jets oft from perch to perch; from stock to ground,
From ground to window, thus surveying round
Her dove-befeather'd prison, till at length
Calling her noble birth to mind, and strength
Whereto her wing was born, her ragged beak
Nips off her jangling jesses, strives to break
Her jingling fetters, and begins to bate
At every glimpse, and darts at every grate :
E'en so my weary soul, that long has been
An inmate in this tenement of sin,
Lock'd up by cloud-brow'd error, which invites
My cloister'd thoughts to feed on black delights,
Now suns her shadows, and begins to dart
Her wing'd desires at thee, that only art
The sun she seeks, whose rising beams can fright
These dusky clouds that make so dark a night:
Shine forth, great glory, shine; that I may see,
Both how to loathe myself, and honour thee:
But if my weakness force thee to deny
Thy flames, yet lend the twilight of thine eye!
If I must want those beams I wish, yet grant
That I at least may wish those beams I want.

BREVITY OF HUMAN LIFE.

My glass is half unspent! forbear t' arrest
My thriftless day too soon: my poor request
Is that my glass may run but out the rest.

My time-devouring minutes will be done
Without thy help; see! see how swift they run;
Cut not my thread before my thread be spun.

The gain's not great I purchase by this stay;
What loss sustain'st thou by so small delay,
To whom ten thousand years are but a day?

My following eye can hardly make a shift
To count my winged hours; they fly so swift,
They scarce deserve the bounteous name of gift.

The secret wheels of hurrying time do give
So short a warning and so fast they drive,
That I am dead before I seem to live.

And what's a life? a weary pilgrimage, Whose glory in one day doth fill the stage With childhood, manhood, and decrepit age. And what's a life? the flourishing array

Of the proud summer-meadow, which to-day Wears her green plush, and is to-morrow hay....

SONG.

To the tune of-Cuckolds all a-row.

KNOW then, my brethren, heaven is clear,
And all the clouds are gone;

The righteous now shall flourish, and
Good days are coming on:

Come then, my brethren, and be glad,

And eke rejoice with me;

Lawn sleeves and rochets shall go down,
And hey! then up go we!

We'll break the windows which the Whore
Of Babylon hath painted,

And when the popish saints are down,
Then Barrow shall be sainted.
There's neither cross nor crucifix

Shall stand for men to see;
Rome's trash and trumperies shall go down,
And hey! then up go we!....

We'll down with all the 'Varsities,

Where learning is profest,
Because they practise and maintain
The language of the beast.
We'll drive the doctors out of doors,

And arts, whate'er they be;
We'll cry both arts and learning down,
And hey! then up go we!....

If once that Antichristian crew

Be crush'd and overthrown,
We'll teach the nobles how to crouch,
And keep the gentry down.
Good manners have an ill report,

And turn to pride, we see;
We'll therefore cry good manners down,
And hey! then up go we!

The name of lord shall be abhorr'd,
For every man's a brother;
No reason why, in church or state,
One man should rule another.
But when the change of government
Shall set our fingers free,
We'll make the wanton sisters stoop,
And hey! then up go we!

Our cobblers shall translate their souls
From caves obscure and shady;
We'll make Tom T- as good as my lord,
And Joan as good as my lady.
We'll crush and fling the marriage ring

Into the Roman see;

We'll ask no bands, but e'en clap hands, And hey! then up go we!

30 VIMU AMBORLIAD

[graphic][ocr errors][subsumed][merged small]
[ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]
[ocr errors][graphic]
« السابقةمتابعة »