THE COLLAR. I STRUCK the board, and cried, "No more! What! shall I ever sigh and pine? My lines and life are free-free as the road, Shall I be still in suit? Have I no harvest, but a thorn To let my blood; and not restore What I have lost with cordial fruit? Sure there was wine Before my sighs did dry it; there was corn Before my tears did drown it; Is the year only lost to me? Have I no bays to crown it? No flowers, no garlands gay? all blasted? Not so, my heart! but there is fruit And thou hast hands. Recover all thy sigh-flown age On double pleasures: leave thy cold dispute. Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee And be thy law, While thou didst wink and wouldst not see: I will abroad, Call in thy death's head there: tie up thy fears. To suit and serve his need, Deserves his load." But as I raved, and grew more fierce and wild Methought I heard one calling, "Child!" VIRTUE. SWEET day! So cool, so calm, so bright, For thou must die. Sweet rose! whose hue, angry and brave, Thy root is ever in the grave; And thou must die. Sweet spring! full of sweet days and roses, My music shows you have your closes, And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul Like seasoned timber never gives; But though the whole world turn to a coal, Then chiefly lives. THE QUIP. THE merry world did on a day With his train-bands and mates agree To meet together where I lay, And all in sport to jeer at me. First Beauty crept into a rose, Which when I plucked not, "Sir," said she, "Tell me, I pray, whose hands are those?" But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. Then Money came: and, chinking still, "What tune is this, poor man?" said he; "I heard in music you had skill:" But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. Then came brave Glory puffing by, In silks that whistled "who but he ?" He scarce allowed me half an eye: But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. Then came quick Wit and Conversation, And, to be short, make an oration: But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. Yet when the hour of thy design To answer these fine things shall come, Speak not at large; say, I am thine; And then they have their answer home. BUSINESS. CANST be idle, canst thou play Rivers run, and springs each one If, poor soul, thou hast no tears, Winds still work, it is their plot If thou hast no sighs or groans, Would thou hadst no flesh and bones: But if yet thou idle be, Foolish soul, who died for thee? Who did leave his Father's throne, To assume thy flesh and bone? If He had not lived for thee He so far thy good did plot, If He had not died for thee And hath any space of breath "Twixt his sins and Saviour's death? He that finds a silver vein PEACE. SWEET Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave Let me once know. I sought thee in a secret cave, And asked if peace were there, A hollow wind did seem to answer, "No! Go seek elsewhere." I did;—and going, did a rainbow note: Surely, thought I, This is the lace of Peace's coat: I will search out the matter. But while I looked, the clouds immediately Then went I to a garden, and did spy A gallant flower, The crown imperial. Sure," said I, "Peace at the root must dwell." But when I digged I saw a worm devour At length I met a reverend good old man ; 66 "There was a prince of old At Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase He sweetly lived; yet sweetness did not save His life from foes, But after death out of his grave There sprang twelve stalks of wheat : Which many wond'ring at, got some of those To plant and set. 'It prospered strangely, and did soon disperse Through all the earth; For they that taste it do rehearse, That virtues lie therein; A secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth, "Take of this grain which in my garden grows, And grows for you: Make bread of it; and that repose, And peace which everywhere pursue, |