Perhaps my restless soul, tired with pursuit Of mortal beauty, seeking without fruit Contentment there, which hath not, when enjoyed, 25 Quenched all her thirst, nor satisfied, though cloyed, In the first Fair may find the immortal Love. 30 And rather strive to gain from thence one thorn, 35 Thomas Carew. LXXXIV THE FLOWER. How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean Like snow in May, As if there were no such cold thing. Who could have thought my shrivelled heart Could have recovered greenness? It was gone Quite under ground; as flowers depart To see their mother-root, when they have blown ; All the hard weather, Dead to the world, keep house unknown. These are thy wonders, Lord of power, Killing and quickening, bringing down to hell And up to heaven in an hour; Making a chiming of a passing bell. We say amiss, This or that is : Thy word is all, if we could spell. Oh, that I once past changing were, Fast in thy Paradise, where no flower can wither! 20 Offering at heaven, growing and groaning thither: 25 Nor doth my flower Want a spring-shower, My sins and I joining together. But while I grow in a straight line, What frost to that? what pole is not the zone When Thou dost turn, And the least frown of thine is shown? And now in age I bud again, After so many deaths I live and write; That I am he, On whom thy tempests fell at night. These are thy wonders, Lord of love, To make us see we are but flowers that glide : Who would be more, Forfeit their Paradise by their pride. 30% 35 40 45 George Herbert. LXXXV GOD UNSEARCHABLE. Weigh me the fire; or canst thou find And taste thou them as saltless there Tell me the motes, dust, sands, and spears Robert Herrick. LXXXVI AT A SOLEMN MUSIC. Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy, With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee ; 5 10 And the Cherubic host in thousand quires With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms, Singing everlastingly : That we on earth, with undiscording voice, May rightly answer that melodious noise; 15 Jarred against Nature's chime, and with harsh din To their great Lord, whose love their motion swayed And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light! John Milton. 20 25 LXXXVII THE RAINBOW. Still young and fine! but what is still in view For thy new light, and trembled at each shower! When thou dost shine, darkness looks white and fair, 5 ΙΟ When I behold thee, though my light be dim, LXXXVIII L'ALLEGRO. Henry Vaughan. 15 Hence, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy! Find out some uncouth cell, 5 Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven sings; There under ebon shades, and low-browed rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. But come, thou Goddess fair and free, In heaven yclept Euphrosyne, And by men, heart-easing Mirth; With two sister Graces more, To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore: The frolic wind that breathes the spring, Zephyr, with Aurora playing, As he met her once a-maying, There on beds of violets blue, And fresh-blown roses washed in dew, Filled her with thee, a daughter fair, So buxom, blithe, and debonair. Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathèd smiles, |