Part 33

15. [PAULINUS.]

Those sacred days by tedious Time delay'd, While the slow years' bright line about is laid, I patiently expect, though much distrest By busy longing and a love-sick breast. I wish they may outshine all other days; Or, when they come, so recompense delays As to outlast the summer hours' bright length; Or that fam'd day, when stopp'd by divine strength The sun did tire the world with his long light, Doubling men's labours, and adjourning night. As the bright sky with stars, the field with flow'rs, The years with diff'ring seasons, months and hours, God hath distinguishèd and mark'd, so He With sacred feasts did ease and beautify The working days: because that mixture may Make men--loth to be holy ev'ry day-- After long labours, with a freer will, Adore their Maker, and keep mindful still Of holiness, by keeping holy days: For otherwise they would dislike the ways Of piety as too severe. To cast Old customs quite off, and from sin to fast Is a great work. To run which way we will, On plains is easy, not so up a hill. Hence 'tis our good God--Who would all men bring Under the covert of His saving wing-- Appointed at set times His solemn feasts, That by mean services men might at least Take hold of Christ as by the hem, and steal Help from His lowest skirts, their souls to heal. For the first step to heaven is to live well All our life long, and each day to excel In holiness; but since that tares are found In the best corn, and thistles will confound And prick my heart with vain cares, I will strive To weed them out on feast-days, and so thrive By handfuls, 'till I may full life obtain, And not be swallow'd of eternal pain.

16. [PAULINUS (?). CARM. APP. I.]

Come, my true consort in my joys and care! Let this uncertain and still wasting share Of our frail life be giv'n to God. You see How the swift days drive hence incessantly, And the frail, drooping world--though still thought gay-- In secret, slow consumption wears away. All that we have pass from us, and once past Return no more; like clouds, they seem to last, And so delude loose, greedy minds. But where Are now those trim deceits? to what dark sphere Are all those false fires sunk, which once so shin'd, They captivated souls, and rul'd mankind? He that with fifty ploughs his lands did sow, Will scarce be trusted for two oxen now; His rich, loud coach, known to each crowded street, Is sold, and he quite tir'd walks on his feet. Merchants that--like the sun--their voyage made From East to West, and by wholesale did trade, Are now turn'd sculler-men, or sadly sweat In a poor fisher's boat, with line and net. Kingdoms and cities to a period tend; Earth nothing hath, but what must have an end; Mankind by plagues, distempers, dearth and war, Tortures and prisons, die both near and far; Fury and hate rage in each living breast, Princes with princes, States with States contest; An universal discord mads each land, Peace is quite lost, the last times are at hand. But were these days from the Last Day secure, So that the world might for more years endure, Yet we--like hirelings--should our term expect, And on our day of death each day reflect. For what--Therasia--doth it us avail That spacious streams shall flow and never fail, That aged forests hie to tire the winds, And flow'rs each Spring return and keep their kinds! Those still remain: but all our fathers died, And we ourselves but for few days abide. This short time then was not giv'n us in vain, To whom Time dies, in which we dying gain, But that in time eternal life should be Our care, and endless rest our industry. And yet this task, which the rebellious deem Too harsh, who God's mild laws for chains esteem, Suits with the meek and harmless heart so right That 'tis all ease, all comfort and delight. "To love our God with all our strength and will; To covet nothing; to devise no ill Against our neighbours; to procure or do Nothing to others, which we would not to Our very selves; not to revenge our wrong; To be content with little, not to long For wealth and greatness; to despise or jeer No man, and if we be despised, to bear; To feed the hungry; to hold fast our crown; To take from others naught; to give our own," --These are His precepts: and--alas!--in these What is so hard, but faith can do with ease? He that the holy prophets doth believe, And on God's words relies, words that still live And cannot die; that in his heart hath writ His Saviour's death and triumph, and doth yet With constant care, admitting no neglect, His second, dreadful coming still expect: To such a liver earthy things are dead, With Heav'n alone, and hopes of Heav'n, he's fed, He is no vassal unto worldly trash, Nor that black knowledge which pretends to wash, But doth defile: a knowledge, by which men With studied care lose Paradise again. Commands and titles, the vain world's device, With gold--the forward seed of sin and vice-- He never minds: his aim is far more high, And stoops to nothing lower than the sky. Nor grief, nor pleasures breed him any pain, He nothing fears to lose, would nothing gain, Whatever hath not God, he doth detest, He lives to Christ, is dead to all the rest. This Holy One sent hither from above A virgin brought forth, shadow'd by the Dove; His skin with stripes, with wicked hands His face And with foul spittle soil'd and beaten was; A crown of thorns His blessed head did wound. Nails pierc'd His hands and feet, and He fast bound Stuck to the painful Cross, where hang'd till dead, With a cold spear His heart's dear blood was shed. All this for man, for bad, ungrateful man, The true God suffer'd! not that suff'rings can Add to His glory aught, Who can receive Access from nothing, Whom none can bereave Of His all-fulness: but the blest design Of His sad death was to save me from mine: He dying bore my sins, and the third day His early rising rais'd me from the clay. To such great mercies what shall I prefer, Or who from loving God shall me deter? Burn me alive, with curious, skilful pain, Cut up and search each warm and breathing vein; When all is done, death brings a quick release, And the poor mangled body sleeps in peace. Hale me to prisons, shut me up in brass, My still free soul from thence to God shall pass. Banish or bind me, I can be nowhere A stranger, nor alone; my God is there. I fear not famine; how can he be said To starve who feeds upon the Living Bread? And yet this courage springs not from my store, Christ gave it me, Who can give much, much more I of myself can nothing dare or do, He bids me fight, and makes me conquer too. If--like great Abr'ham--I should have command To leave my father's house and native land, I would with joy to unknown regions run, Bearing the banner of His blessed Son. On worldly goods I will have no design, But use my own, as if mine were not mine; Wealth I'll not wonder at, nor greatness seek, But choose--though laugh'd at--to be poor and meek. In woe and wealth I'll keep the same staid mind, Grief shall not break me, nor joys make me blind: My dearest Jesus I'll still praise, and He Shall with songs of deliv'rance compass me. Then come, my faithful consort! join with me In this good fight, and my true helper be; Cheer me when sad, advise me when I stray, Let us be each the other's guide and stay; Be your lord's guardian: give joint aid and due, Help him when fall'n, rise, when he helpeth you, That so we may not only one flesh be, But in one spirit and one will agree.

FOOTNOTES:

The original has gry.

From Hermetical Physic: translated from Henry Nollius (1655).

1. [HORACE. EPIST. I. 1, 14-5.]

Where'er my fancy calls, there I go still, Not sworn a slave to any master's will.

2. [INCERTI.]

There's need, betwixt his clothes, his bed and board, Of all that Earth and Sea and Air afford.

3. [INCERTI.]

With restless cares they waste the night and day, To compass great estates, and get the sway.

4. [JUVENAL. SATIRE XV. 160-164.]

Whenever did, I pray, One lion take another's life away? Or in what forest did a wild boar by The tusks of his own fellow wounded die? Tigers with tigers never have debate; And bears among themselves abstain from hate

5. [JUVENAL. SATIRE XV. 169-171.]

esteem it no point of revenge to kill, Unless they may drink up the blood they spill: Who do believe that hands, and hearts, and heads, Are but a kind of meat, etc.

6. [INCERTI.]

The strongest body and the best Cannot subsist without due rest.

From Thomas Powell's Cerbyd Fechydwiaeth (1657).

1. [THE LORD'S PRAYER.]

Y Pader, pan trier, Duw-tri a'i dododd O'i dadol ddaioni, Yn faen-gwaddan i bob gweddi, Ac athrawieth a wnaeth i ni.

Ol Vaughan.

From Thomas Powell's Humane Industry (1661).

1. [CAMPION. EPIGR. I. 151.]

Time's-Teller wrought into a little round, Which count'st the days and nights with watchful sound; How--when once fix'd--with busy wheels dost thou The twice twelve useful hours drive on and show; And where I go, go'st with me without strife, The monitor and ease of fleeting life.

2. [GROTIUS. LIB. EPIGR. II.]

The untired strength of never-ceasing motion, A restless rest, a toilless operation, Heaven then had given it, when wise Nature did To frail and solid things one place forbid; And parting both, made the moon's orb their bound, Damning to various change this lower ground. But now what Nature hath those laws transgress'd, Giving to Earth a work that ne'er will rest? Though 'tis most strange, yet--great King--'tis not new: This work was seen and found before, in you. In you, whose mind--though still calm--never sleeps, But through your realms one constant motion keeps: As your mind--then--was Heaven's type first, so this But the taught anti-type of your mind is.