I CANNOT do an act which Earth disdains not;
I cannot think a thought which Earth corrupts not;
I cannot speak a word which Earth profanes not;
I cannot make a vow Earth interrupts not:
If I but offer up an early groan,
Or spread my wings to Heaven's long longed-for throne,
She darkens my complaints, and drags my off'ring down.
E'en like the hawk, whose keeper's wary hands
Have made a pris'ner to her weath'ring stock,
Forgetting quite the pow'r of her fast bands,
Makes a rank bate 1 from her forsaken block;
But her too faithful leash doth soon retain
Her broken flight, attempted oft in vain ;
It gives her loins a twitch, and tugs her back again.
So, when my soul directs her better eye
To Heaven's bright palace, where my treasure lies,
I spread my willing wings, but cannot fly;
Earth holds me down-I cannot, cannot rise:
When I but strive to mount the least degree,
Earth gives a jerk, and foils me on my knee;
Lord, how my soul is racked betwixt the World and Thee!
Great God, I spread my feeble wings in vain;
In vain I offer my extended hands;
I cannot mount till Thou unlock my chain;
I cannot come till Thou release my bands;
Which if Thou please to break, and then supply
My wings with spirit, th' eagle shall not fly
A pitch that's half so fair, nor half so swift as I.
FRANCIS QUARLes.
1 Beating of the wings for flight.
By many peoples, many waters pass'd,
Brother, I stand by thy sad tomb at last,
To crown thee with the final dues of death,
And stir thy silent dust with empty breath;
For Fate hath parted me from thee, from thee,
Alas, poor Brother! filched away from me.
But ere I go, take, in our fathers' wise,
These gloomy funerals my rainy eyes
With many tears have moisten'd thro' and thro',
And ever, Brother, fare thee well. Adieu,
"WHERE THE WICKED CEASE FROM TROUBLING.”
THOUGH to the vilest things beneath the moon
For poor Ease' sake I give away my heart,
And for the moment's sympathy let part
My sight and sense of truth, Thy precious boon,
My painful earnings lost, all lost, as soon,
Almost, as gained; and though aside I start,
Belie Thee daily, hourly-still Thou art,
Art surely as in heaven the sun at noon;
How much soe'er I sin, whate'er I do
Of evil, still the sky above is blue,
The stars look down in beauty as before:
It is enough to walk as best we may,
To walk and sighing dream of that blest day
When ill we cannot quell shall be no more.
A. H. CLOUGH.
It is to fast from strife,
From old debate
And hate;
To circumcise thy life.
To show a heart grief-rent;
To starve thy sin,
Not bin;
And that's to keep thy Lent.
SINCE I am coming to that holy room
Where with the quire of saints for evermore I shall be made Thy music; as I come, I tune the instrument here at the door, And what I must do then, think here before.
Whilst my physicians by their lore are grown
Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie
Flat on this bed, that by them may be shown
That this is my south-west discovery—
Per fretum febris-by these straits to die:
I joy, that in those straits I see my West,
For though those currents yield return to none,
What shall my West hurt me? As west and east
In all flat maps (and I am one) are one,
So death doth touch the Resurrection.
Is the Pacific Sea my home? or are
The eastern riches? is Jerusalem ?
Anvan and Magellan and Gibraltar are
All straits, and none but straits are ways to them,
Whether where Japhet dwelt or Ham or Shem.
We think that Paradise and Calvarie,
Christ's cross and Adam's tree, stood in one place: Look, Lord, and find both Adams met in me! As the first Adam's sweat surrounds my face, May the last Adam's blood my soul embrace.
So, in His purple wrapp'd, receive me, Lord!
By these His thorns, give me His other crown!
And as to others' souls I preached Thy Word,
Be this my text, my sermon to mine own :—
Therefore that He may raise, the Lord throws down.
JOHN DONNE.
LA CONVALESCENCE D'ÉZÉCHIAS.
I HAVE seen this life of tears
Toward its night declining;
At the high noon of my years
Dimly my sun was shining.
For lo! gaunt Death his wings outspread,
And straight, with their eternal shade,
Cloaked the light that I adore.
And in the darkness of that night
I sought in vain the vanished light
Of the days that were no more.
|