For I had given the key to none, but one: MAN'S MEDLEY. HARK, how the birds do sing, All creatures have their joy, and man hath his. To this life things of sense In th' other Angels have a right by birth: Man ties them both alone, And makes them one, With th' one hand touching heaven, with the other earth. In soul he mounts and flies, In flesh he dies. He wears a stuff whose thread is coarse and round, After the trimming, not the stuff and ground. Not, that he may not here Taste of the cheer: But as birds drink, and straight lift up their head; So must he sip, and think Of better drink He may attain to, after he is dead. But as his joys are double, He hath two winters, other things but one: And he of all things fears two deaths alone. Yet even the greatest griefs Could he but take them right, and in their ways. Hath found the art To turn his double pains to double praise. THE STORM. IF as the winds and waters here below My sighs and tears as busy were above; Sure they would move And much affect thee, as tempestuous times Stars have their storms, even in a high degree, A throbbing conscience spurred by remorse It quits the earth, and mounting more and more, There it stands knocking, to thy music's wrong, Glory and honour are set by till it An answer get. Poets have wrong'd poor storms: such days are best; They purge the air without, within the breast. PARADISE. I BLESS thee, Lord, because I GROW What open force, or hidden CHARM Enclose me still, for fear I START. When thou dost greater judgments SPARE, And with thy knife but prune and PARE, Even fruitful trees more fruitful ARE. Such sharpness shows the sweetest FRIEND: Such cuttings rather heal than REND: And such beginnings touch their END. THE METHOD. POOR heart, lament, For since thy God refuseth still, Thy Father could Quickly effect, what thou dost move; Go search this thing, Tumble thy breast, and turn thy book: If thou hadst lost a glove or ring, Wouldst thou not look? What do I see Written above there? Yesterday And should God's ear To such indifferents chained be, Who do not their own motions hear? But stay! what's there? Late when I would have something done, And should God's ear, Which needs not man, be tied to those Then once more pray: Down with thy knees, up with thy voice: DIVINITY. As men, for fear the stars should sleep and nod, As if a star were duller than a clod, Which knows his way without a guide : Just so the other heaven they also serve, Which with the edge of wit they cut and carve. Could not that wisdom, which first broach'd the wine, And jagg'd his seamless coat, had that been fine, |