satiety of the flesh, we break forth into the iniquity of her folly.— S. GREG. Hom. iii. secund. parte Ezech.

The heart is a small thing, but desireth great matters. It is not sufficient for a kite's dinner; yet the whole world is not sufficient for it.-HUGO de Anima.

EPIG. 12.

What makes thee, fool, so fat?

Fool, thee so bare?
Ye suck the self-same milk, the self-same air;
No mean betwixt all paunch, and skin and bone?
The mean's a virtue, and the world has none.

No. XIII.

Illustration-A Man curbing an Ass up hill, another lashing a Deer toward a Globe.

Men love darkness rather than light, because their deeds are evil.—
JOHN iii. 19.

LORD, when we leave the world and come to thee,
How dull, how slug are we!

How backward! How prepost'rous is the motion.
Of our ungain1 devotion!

Our thoughts are millstones, and our souls are lead,
And our desires are dead:

Our vows are fairly promised, faintly paid;
Or broken, or not made:

Our better work (if any good) attends
Upon our private ends:

In whose performance one poor worldly scoff
Foils us, or beats us off.

If thy sharp scourge find out some secret fault,
We grumble or revolt;

And if thy gentle hand forbear, we stray,

Or idly lose the way.

"Ungain: Ungainly.

10

Is the road fair? we loiter; clogg'd with mire?
We stick, or else retire:

A lamb appears a lion; and we fear,

Each bush we see 's a bear.

When our dull souls direct our thoughts to thee,
As slow as snails are we:

But at the earth we dart our wing'd desire;
We burn, we burn like fire.

Like as the am'rous needle joys to bend
To her magnetic friend:

Or as the greedy lover's eye-balls fly

At his fair mistress' eye:

So, so we cling to earth; we fly and puff,
Yet fly not fast enough.

If pleasure beckon with her balmy hand,
Her beck's a strong command:
If honour calls us with her courtly breath,
An hour's delay is death:

If profit's golden-finger'd charm inveigles,
We clip1 more swift than eagles:
Let Auster weep, or blust'ring Boreas roar,
Till eyes or lungs be sore:

Let Neptune swell, until his dropsy sides
Burst into broken tides:

20

330

40

Nor threat'ning rocks, nor winds, nor waves, nor fire,
Can curb our fierce desire:

Nor fire, nor rocks, can stop our furious minds,
Nor waves, nor winds:

How fast and fearless do our footsteps flee!

The lightfoot rocbuck's not so swift as we.

Two several lovers built two several cities; the love of God buildeth a Jerusalem; the love of the world buildeth a Babylon. Let every one inquire of himself what he loveth, and he shall

resolve himself of whence he is a citizen.-S. AUGUST. sup. Psal. lxiv.

All things are driven by their own weight, and tend to their own centre; my weight is my love; by that I am driven whithersoever I am driven.-S. AUGUST. Lib. iii. Confess.

Lord, he loveth thee the less, that loveth anything with thee, which he loveth not for thee.-Ibidem.

EPIG. 13.

Lord, scourge my ass, if she should make no haste,

And curb my stag, if he should fly too fast:

If he be over swift, or she prove idle,

Let love lend her a spur; fear, him a bridle.

No. XIV.

Illustration-A Man sitting with a Candle, which hides the day already broken
Lighten mine eyes, O Lord, lest I sleep the sleep of death.-PSALM xiii. 3.
1 WILL 'T ne'er be morning? Will that promised light
Ne'er break, and clear those clouds of night?
Sweet Phosphor, bring the day,

Whose conqu'ring ray

May chase these fogs; sweet Phosphor, bring the day.
How long, how long shall these benighted eyes
Languish in shades, like feeble flies

Expecting spring? How long shall darkness soil
The face of earth, and thus beguile

Our souls of sprightful action? When, when will day
Begin to dawn, whose new-born ray

May gild the weathercocks of our devotion,
And give our unsoul'd souls new motion?
Sweet Phosphor, bring the day;

Thy light will fray

These horrid mists; sweet Phosphor, bring the day.

2 Let those have night, that slily love t' immure Their cloister'd crimes, and sin secure ;

Let those have night, that blush to let men know
The baseness they ne'er blush to do;

Let those have night, that love to have a nap,
And loll in Ignorance's lap ;

Let those, whose eyes, like owls, abhor the light,
Let those have night, that love the night:
Sweet Phosphor, bring the day;

How sad delay

Afflicts dull hopes! sweet Phosphor, bring the day.

3 Alas! my light in vain expecting eyes
Can find no objects, but what rise
From this poor mortal blaze, a dying spark
Of Vulcan's forge, whose flames are dark,
A dangerous, dull, blue-burning light,
As melancholy as the night :

Here's all the suns that glister in the sphere
Of earth. Ah me! what comfort's here!
Sweet Phosphor, bring the day;

Haste, haste away

Heav'n's loit'ring lamp; sweet Phosphor, bring the day.

4 Blow, Ignorance: 0 thou, whose idle knee Rocks earth into a lethargy,

And with thy sooty fingers has benight

The world's fair cheeks, blow, blow thy spite:
Since thou hast puft our greater taper; do
Puff on, and out the lesser too :

If e'er that breath-exiled flame return,
Thou hast not blown, as it will burn:

Sweet Phosphor, bring the day:

Light will repay

The wrongs of night; sweet Phosphor, bring the day.

GOD is all to thee: If thou be hungry, he is bread; if thirsty, he is water; if darkness, he is light; if naked, he is a robe of immortality.-S. AUGUST. in Joh. Ser. xix.

GOD is a light that is never darkened; an unwearied life that cannot die; a fountain always flowing; a garden of life; a seminary of wisdom; a radical beginning of all goodness.-ALANUS de Conq. Nat.

EPIG. 14.

My soul, if Ignorance puff out this light,
She'll do a favour that intends a spite :

"T seems dark abroad; but take this light away,
Thy windows will discover break of day.

No. XV.

Illustration-Described already in ‘Life.'

The devil is come down unto you, having great wrath, because he knoweth that he hath but a short time.-REV. xii. 12.

1 LORD, canst thou see and suffer? Is thy hand Still bound to th' peace? Shall earth's black monarch take

A full possession of thy wasted land?

Oh, will thy slumb'ring vengeance never wake,
Till full-aged, law-resisting custom shake
The pillars of thy right by false command?
Unlock thy clouds, great Thund'rer, and come
down;

Behold whose temples wear thy sacred crown; Redress, redress our wrongs; revenge, revenge thy

own.