The first's estate's but small, if not made good
By death fair jointures comfort widowhood.
Whom shall this virgin choose? Her thoughts
approve
The last, for present wealth; the first, for love:
Both may not be enjoy'd: her heart must smother
Her love to one, if she affect the other.
Ah, silly virgin! is the choice so hard
In two extremes ? Can thy weak thoughts reward
Two, so unequal, with a like respect?
Know'st thou not which to slight, and which to affect ?
Submit to better judgment, and advise
With thy best friend; O trust not thine own eyes.
This last, that seems so pleasant, so acute,
Is but a slave, drest in his Lord's old suit :
He brags of glory, and of princely power,
When he is kick'd and baffled every hour:
The treasure that he boasts is not his own,
He basely stole it, and the theft is known;
For which he is arraign'd, condemn'd to the pains
Of death; his sentence is, to hang in chains.
His plot's to bring thee in as deep as he;
Believ't, it is thy blood he seeks, not thee.
The bribes he gave thee are but stol'n: fond girl,
Discard those bracelets, and disclaim that pearl.
The first, whose oft-repeated knocks did crave
Admittance, was the Lord to that base slave:
His faith is loyal, and as firm his vow;
To him, his life's not half so dear as thou:
That wealth, that honour, that dissembled power,
That pleasant peasant offer'd as a dower,
Is that fair Lord's: nor peace, nor pow'r, nor wealth,
Can any challenge from him, but by stealth.
Match there, my soul, and let thy sacred vows
Plight holy contracts with so sweet a spouse:
His left hand's full of treasure, and his right
Of peace, and honour, and unknown delight:
He'll give thee wealth, and in thy wealth content,
For present means: and (when thy glass has spent
Her latest sand, that time untransitory
Thy days) a jointure of eternal glory.
TO SIR JULIUS CÆSAR, MASTER OF THE
ROLLS.
THE high perfections, wherewith heav'n does please
To crown our transitory days, are these:-
Goods well possessed, and not possessing thee;
A faithful friend, equal in love, degree:
Lands fruitful, and not conscious of a curse;
A boastless hand; a charitable purse;
A smiling conscience; a contented mind;
A sober knowledge, with true wisdom join'd:
A breast well temper'd; diet without art,
Surfeit, or harm; a wisely simple heart;
Pastimes ingenuous, lawful, manly, sparing;
A spirit not contentious, rash, but daring;
A body healthful, sound, and fit for labour;
A house well order'd, and an equal neighbour;
A prudent wife, and constant to the roof;
Sober, but yet not sad, and fair enough;
Sleep seasonable, moderate, and secure;
Actions heroic, constant, blameless, pure;
A life as long as fair; and when expir'd,
A glorious death, unfear'd, as undesir'd.
HERBERT appears to have been as fine an example as any age has produced, of the poet, the scholar, and the gentleman, all harmonized and exalted in the character of the earnest and reflecting Christian. His poems are, perhaps, among uninspired compositions, the most valuable of recorded experiences in religion; and it is impossible to reflect upon their popularity, during a great part of the century in which they were first published, without rejoicing that there should have been so large a portion of the besteducated of the community, who made serious and sustained endeavours to grow in grace, and who felt the worth of such a guide and companion through the wilderness of life. It is a painful fact, that a work once so generally esteemed, so abundant and so true in its descriptions of the effects of genuine religion, and evincing so thorough an acquaintance with its power upon the soul, should now be known to few besides the curious literary enquirer. May the reader become embued, by frequent tasting, with a sincere relish for the feast of devout thoughts-a feast here and there, indeed, fantastically garnished, but always wholesome, and served with elegancewhich is set before him in these pages of the meek and pious Herbert!
RESTORE to God his due in tithe and time;
A tithe purloin'd, cankers the whole estate.
Sundays observe: think when the bells do chime,
'Tis angels' music; therefore come not late.
God then deals blessings; if a king did so,
Who would not haste, nay give, to see the show?
Twice on the day his due is understood,
For all the week thy food so oft he gave thee.
Thy cheer is mended; bate not of the food,
Because 'tis better, and perhaps may save thee.
Thwart not th' Almighty God; O be not cross.
Fast when thou wilt, but then 'tis gain, not loss.
Though private prayer be a brave design,
Yet public hath more promises, more love;
And love's a weight to hearts, to eyes a sign.
We all are but cold suitors; let us move
Where it is warmest. Leave thy six and seven ; Pray with the most; for where most pray, is heav'n.
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