« السابقةمتابعة »
But little is known of Carey, except that he was of the established church and a loyalist. His poems, some of which possess great merit, were first printed by Sir Walter Scott, from a MS. dated 1651.
CHRIST IN THE CRADLE, IN THE GARDEN, AND IN HIS
Look, how He shakes for cold !
How pale his lips are grown!
Yet mantle has He none,
Than is the snow
That pains them so)
His lips are blue,
(Where roses grew,) He's frozen everywhere:
All the heat He has,
Joseph, alas !
Look! how He glows for heat!
What flames come from his eyes !
Blood his bright forehead dyes.
Through every pore
His blood runs o'er,
His very heart
Burns in each part,
For all this flame
To cool the same, He only breathes a sigh, and weeps a tear.
What bruises do I see !
What hideous stripes are those ! Could any cruel be
Enough to give such blows ? Look, how they bind his arms, And vex his soul with scorns !
Upon his hair
They make Him wear A crown of piercing thorns.
Through hands and feet,
Sharp nails they beat. And now the cross they rear;
Mary looks on,
But only John
Why did He quake for cold ?
Why did He glow for heat? Dissolve that first He could,
He could call back that sweat. Those bruises, stripes, bonds, taunts, Those thorns which thou didst see,
Those nails, that cross,
His own life's loss-
'Twas for thy sake :
Thou, thou didst make Him all those torments bear:
If then his love
Do thy soul move, Sigh out a groan, weep down a melting tear.
This amiable man and pleasing poet was born at Hendlip, in Worcestershire, in 1605. His family being Catholics, he was educated at St. Omer's, and afterwards at Paris. At an early age he married Liicia, daughter of William Herbert, first Lord Powis; this lady was the Castara of his poems.
He died in 1654. The poems of Habington were introduced for the first time in a general collection, by Mr. Chalmers. “The great charm of these poems,” says Mr. Wilmot,“ is their purity, and domestic tenderness: the religion of his fancy is never betrayed into any unbecoming mirth, or rapturous enthusiasm. He is always amiable, simple, and unaffected; if he has not the ingenuity of some of his rivals, he is also free from their conceits.”
LAUDATE DOMINUM DE CELIS.-DAVID.
You Spirits! who have thrown away
Which your celestial flight denied;
So broken in the angel's pride!
O you! whom your Creator's sight
Sing forth the triumphs of his name:
enamored souls, agree
To give expression to your flame!
To Him his own great works relate,
You 'bove the frailty of your birth,
By the rebellion of our earth.
While a corrupted air beneath
Each hour some passion us assails.
Itself in wit or beauty veils.
circles us with hate, And Jays a siege so strait,
No heavenly succor enters in: But if revenge admittance find Forever hath the mind
Made forfeit of itself to sin.
Assaulted thus, how dare we raise
Who is eternal and immense ?
So far above the search of sense?
In your soul's bright expansion :
That ever with Him you now shine one. While we who to earth contract our hearts, And only study arts
To shorten the sad length of time, In place of joys, bring humble fears, For hymns, repentant tears,
And a new sigh, for every crime.
NOX NOCTI INDICAT SCIENTIAM.-David
My soul her wings doth spread,
And heavenward flies,
In the large volume of the skies.
For the bright firmament
Shoots forth no flame So silent, but is eloquent
In speaking the Creator's name.
No unregarded star
Contracts its light Into so small a character,
Removed far from our human sight,
But, if we steadfast look,
We shall discern
How man may heavenly knowledge learn.
It tells the
conqueror, That far-stretched power, Which his proud dangers traffic for,
Is but the triumph of an hour.
That from the farthest north
Some nations may,
And o'er bis new-got conquest sway.
Some nation, yet shut in
With hills of ice,
Till they shall equal him in vice.
And then they likewise shall
Their ruin have;
And every kingdom hath a gravc.