Nor do I beg this slender inch, to wile The time away, or falsely to beguile My thoughts with joy; here's nothing worth a smile. Quarles' Emblems, B. III. Emb. xiii. O THAT THOU WOULDST HIDE ME IN THE GRAVE, THAT THOU WOULDST KEEP ME IN SECRET UNTIL THY WRATH BE PAST. PSALMS. AH! whither shall I fly? what path untrod Where shall I sojourn? what kind sea will hide What if my feet should take their hasty flight, What if my soul should take the wings of day, What if some solid rock should entertain Nor sea, nor shade, nor shield, nor rock, nor cave, Where flame-ey'd Fury * means to smite, can save. "Tis vain to flee; 'till gentle Mercy show Th' ingenuous child, corrected, doth not fly Great God! there is no safety here below; 'Tis thou, that strik'st the stroke, must guard the blow†. Quarles' Emblems. ALL THINGS ARE VAIN. ALTHOUGH the purple morning, brags in brightness of the sun As though he had of chased night, a glorious conquest won: The time by day, gives place again to force of drowsy night, And every creature is constrain❜d to change his lusty plight. flame-ey'd Fury.] An epithet highly original and fine. Shakspeare uses fire-ey'd Fury in his Romeo and Juliet. + For further observations, see Jackson's Letters, Vol. II. Let. xxx. where both these particular pieces of Quarles were first more immediately brought forward to the public eye. Of pleasure all that here we taste; We feel the contrary at last. In spring, though pleasant Zephyrus hath fruitful earth in spired, And nature hath each bush, each branch, with blossoms brave attired: Yet fruits and flowers, as buds and blooms, full quickly withered be, When stormy winter comes to kill, the summer's jollity. All things wherein we pleasure most. Although the seas so calmly glide, as dangers none appear, And doubt of storms, in sky is none, king Phœbus shines so clear: Yet when the boist'rous winds break out, and raging waves do swell, The seely bark now heaves to heaven, now sinks again to hell, Thus change in ev'ry thing we see, And nothing constant seems to be. Who floweth most in worldly wealth, of wealth is most unsure, And he that chiefly tastes of joy, doth sometime woe endure: Who vaunteth most of numb'red friends, forego them all he must, The fairest flesh and liveliest blood, is turn'd at length to dust. Experience gives a certain ground, That certain here, is nothing found. Then trust to that which aye remains, the bliss of heavens above, Which Time, nor Fate, nor Wind, nor Storm, is able to re move, Trust to that sure celestial rock, that rests in glorious throne, That hath been, is, and must be still, our anchor hold alone. The world is but a vanity, In heaven seek we our surety. The Paradise of Dainty Devises, Fol. 18, 44, signed F. K*. 1 CHURCH MONUMENTS. WHILE that my soul repairs to her devotiou, Here I entomb my flesh, that it betimes My body to the school, that it may learn To sever the good fellowship of dust, And spoil the meeting. What shall point out them, * Probably written by Francis Kinwelmershe, a contributor to the collection in which they appear, and a student of Gray's Inn. He assisted Gascoigne in his tragedy of Jocasta. When they shall bow, and kneel, and fall down flat And wanton in thy cravings, thou may'st know The Temple, by G. Herbert, AGAINST FOREIGN LUXURY. AND now, ye British swains (whose harmless sheep VOL. II.. |