And how she vails her flowers when he is gone, To wait upon a meaner light than him: -When this I meditate, methinks the flowers Have spirits far more generous than ours, And give us fair examples, to despise The servile fawnings and idolatries, Wherewith we court these earthly things below, Which merit not the service we bestow. But, O my God! though grovelling I appear Upon the ground, and have a rooting here, Which hales me downward, yet in my desire To that which is above me I aspire; And all my best affections I profess To Him that is the Sun of Righteousness. Oh! keep the morning of his incarnation, The burning noontide of his bitter passion, The night of his descending, and the height Of his ascension,-ever in my sight; That, imitating Him in what I may, I never follow an inferior way. WELL-DOING. WHEN to the fields we walk, to look upon The number of the shots doth archers make. So God, who marketh our endeavours here, To find those well-breath'd lecturers, that can THE GLORY OF CHRIST, UNDER THE FIGURE WHAT'S he that from the desert, there, All those are men expert in fight, With purple covered he the same, For you, with charity is wrought. HENRY KING, BISHOP OF CHICHESTER. BORN 1591; DIED 1669. THIS learned divine was the author of a metrical translation of the Psalms, a small volume of miscellaneous poems in English, and also of several Greek and Latin poems, and some religious tracts. It is a sufficient attestation to his character that he was advanced to a bishopric by King Charles, expressly with a view that by his mildness, unfeigned piety, and blameless life, he might help to win back the affections of the people, alienated by its enemies from the episcopal order. There is a peculiarcharm in his poetry, which is owing less to the ease and sweetness of style, by which it is frequently distinguished, than to its faithfully reflecting the qualities of the author's mind and heart. |