piety which gave a charm to his life, and breathes through all his writings. Stanza.-Called by Herbert 'The Pulley.' When God at first made man, Having a glass of blessings standing by, So strength first made a way; Then beauty flowed; then wisdom, honour, pleasure; Perceiving that alone, of all His treasure, Rest in the bottom lay. For if I should,' said He, Bestow this jewel also on my creature, Pe would adore my gifts instead of me, 'Yet let him keep the rest But keep them, with repining restlessness- If goodness lead him not, yet weariness May toss him to my breast.' Matin Hymn. I cannot ope mine eyes But Thou art ready there to catch, My mourning soul and sacrifice, Then we must needs for that day make a match. My God, what is a heart? Silver, or gold, or precious stone, Or star, or rainbow, or a part Of all these things, or all of them in one? My God, what is a heart, That Thou shouldst it so eye and wo0, Pouring upon it all Thy art, As if Thou hadst nothing else to do? Indeed, man's whole estate Amounts-and richly-to serve Thee; Yet studies them, not Him by whom they be. That this new light which now I see May both the work and workman shew; Sunday. O day most calm, most bright, The other days and thou Man had straight forward gone The which he doth not fill. Sundays the pillars are On which heaven s palace arched lies: And hollow room with vanities. Which parts their ranks and orders. The Sundays of man's life Mortification. How soon doth Man decay! When clothes are taken from a chest of sweets They are like little winding-sheets, Which do consigu and send them unto death. When boys go first to bed, They step into their voluntary graves; Successive nights, like rolling waves, Convey them quickly, who are bound for death. When Youth is frank and free, And calls for music, while his veins do swell, In company; That music summons to the knell, Which shall befriend him at the house of Death. When Man grows staid and wise, Getting a house and home, where he may move The writings of FRANCIS QUARLES (1592–1644) are more like those of a divine, or contemplative recluse, than of a busy man of the world, who held various public situations, and died at the age of fifty-two. Quarles was a native of Essex educated at Cambridge, and afterwards a student of Lincoln's Iun. He was successively cupbearer to Elizabeth, the queen of Bohemia, secretary to Archbishop Usher, and chronologer to the city of London. He espoused the cause of Charles I.; and was so harassed by the opposite party, who injured his property, and plundered him of his books and rare manuscripts, that his death was attributed to the affliction and ill-health caused by these disasters. Notwithstanding his loyalty, the works of Quarles have a tinge of Puritanism and ascetic piety that might have mollified the rage of his persecutors. His poems consist of various pieces-' Job Militant,' 'Sion's Elegies,' the History of Queen Esther,'' Argalus and Parthenia,' the Morning Muse,' the Feast of Worms,' and the 'Divine Emblems.' The last were published in 1645, and were so popular that Phillips, Milton's nephew, styles Quarles 'the darling of our plebeian judgments.' The eulogium still holds good to some extent, for the 'Divine Emblems,' with their quaint and grotesque illustrations, are still found in the cottages of our peasants. After the Restoration, when everything sacred and serious was either neglected or made the subject of ribald jests, Quarles seems to have been entirely lost to the public. Even Pope, who, had he read him, must have relished his lively fancy and poetical expression, notices only his bathos and absurdity. The better and more tolerant taste of modern times has admitted the divine emblemist into the laurelled fraternity of poets,' where, if he does not occupy a conspicuous place, he is at least sure of his due measure of homage and attention. Emblems, or the union of the graphic and poetic arts, to inculcate lessons of moralty and religion, had been tried with success by Peacham and Wither Quarles, however, made Herman Hugo, a Jesuit, his model, and from the 'Pia Desideria' of this author copied a great part of his prints and mottoes. His style is that of his age-studded with conceits, often extravagant in conception, and presenting the most outre and ridiculous combinations. There is strength, however, amidst his contortions, and true wit mixed up with the false. His epigrammatic point, uniting wit and devotion, has been considered the precursor of Young's Night Thoughts.' Stanzas. As when a lady, walking Flora's bower, The Shortness of Life. And what's a life ?--a weary pilgrimage, And what's a life-the flourishing array My short-lived winter's day! hour eats up hour; Behold these lilies, which thy hands have made, To view, how soon they droop, how soon they fade! Shade not that dial, night will blind too soon; Nor do I beg this slender inch to wile The time away, or falsely to beguile My thoughts with joy: here's nothing worth a smile. Can he be fair, that withers at a blast? Or he be strong, that airy breath can cast ? So young is man, that, broke with care and sorrow, He's old enough to-day to die to-morrow: Why bragg'st thou, then, thou worm of five feet long? Thou 'rt neither fair, nor strong, nor wise, nor rich, nor young. The Vanity of the World. False world, thou ly'st; thou canst not lend The least delight: Thy favours cannot gain a friend, They are so slight: Thy morning pleasures make an end To please at night: Poor are the wants that thou supply'st, And yet thou vaunt'st, and yet thou vy'st With heaven; fond earth, thou boasts; false world, thou ly'st. Thy babbling tongue tells golden tales Of endless treasure; Thy bounty offers easy sales Of lasting pleasure; Thou ask'st the conscience what she ails, And swear'st to ease her: There's none can want where thou supply'st: There's none can give where thou deny'st. Alas! fond world, thou boasts; false world, thou ly'st. What well-advised ear regards What earth can say ? Thy words are gold, but thy rewards Thy cunning can but pack the cards, Thou canst not play: Thy game at weakest, still thou vy'st: If seen, and then revyv'd, deny'st: Thou art not what thou seem'st; false world, thou ly'st. |