And if the Fox had lived to rule their side, They had deposed each one. Humility, who held the plume, at this Did weep so fast, that the tears trickling down They drive them soon away; And then amerced them, double gifts to bring XLVI. FRAILTY. LORD, in my silence how do I despise Is styled honour, riches, or fair eyes; But is fair dust! I surname them gilded clay, In all, I think my foot doth ever tread But when I view abroad both Regiments, The world's, and thine; Thine clad with simpleness, and sad events; Full of glory and gay weeds, Brave language, braver deeds: That which was dust before, doth quickly rise, And prick mine eyes. O brook not this, lest if what even now My foot did tread Affront those joys, wherewith thou didst endow, And long since wed My poor soul, e'en sick of love; It may a Babel prove, XLVII. CONSTANCY. WHO is the honest man? He that doth still and strongly good pursue, Whose honesty is not So loose or easy, that a ruffling wind Who, when great trials come, Nor seeks, nor shuns them; but doth calmly stay, Till he the thing and the example weigh: All being brought into a sum, What place or person calls for, he doth pay. Whom none can work or woo, To use in any thing a trick or sleight; For above all things he abhors deceit : His words and works and fashion too All of a piece, and all are clear and straight. Who never melts or thaws At close temptations: when the day is done, And is their virtue; Virtue is his Sun. Who, when he is to treat With sick folks, women, those whom passions sway, Allows for that, and keeps his constant way: Whom others' faults do not defeat ; But though men fail him, yet his part doth play. Whom nothing can procure, When the wide world runs bias, from his will To writhe his limbs, and share, not mend the ill. This is the Marksman, safe and sure, Who still is right, and prays to be so still. XLVIII. AFFLICTION. My heart did heave, and there came forth, O God! Making a sceptre of the rod : Hadst thou not had thy part, Sure the unruly sigh had broke my heart. But since thy breath gave me both life and shape, Thou know'st my tallies; and when there's assign'd So much breath to a sigh, what's then behind? Or if some years with it The sigh then only is escape, A gale to bring me sooner to my bliss. Thy life on earth was grief, and thou art still A point of honour, now to grieve in me, They who lament one cross, XLIX. THE STAR. BRIGHT spark, shot from a brighter place, Yet, if thou wilt from thence depart, First with thy fire-work burn to dust Folly, and worse than folly, lust: Then with thy light refine, And make it shine. So disengaged from sin and sickness, Then with our trinity of light, Motion, and heat, let's take our flight Get me a standing there, and place Glitter, and curl, and wind as they : That winding is their fashion Sure thou wilt joy by gaining me To fly home like a laden bee And garland-streams. L. SUNDAY. O DAY most calm, most bright, The fruit of this, the next world's bud, The indorsement of supreme delight, Writ by a friend, and with his blood; The couch of time; care's balm and bay; |