CLVII. A WREATH. A WREATHED garland of deserved praise, So live and like, that I may know thy ways, CLVIII. DEATH. DEATH, thou wast once an uncouth hideous thing, Nothing but bones, The sad effect of sadder groans: Thy mouth was open, but thou couldst not sing. For we consider'd thee as at some six Or ten years hence, After the loss of life and sense, Flesh being turn'd to dust, and bones to sticks. We look'd on this side of thee, shooting short; The shells of fledge souls left behind, Dry dust, which sheds no tears, but may extort. But since our Saviour's death did put some blood Into thy face; Thou art grown fair and full of grace, Much in request, much sought for, as a good. For we do now behold thee gay and glad, When souls shall wear their new array, And all thy bones with beauty shall be clad. Therefore we can go die as sleep, and trust Unto an honest faithful grave; CLIX. DOOMSDAY. COME away, Make no delay. Summon all the dust to rise, Each one whispering, Live you, Come away, Make this the day. Dust, alas, no music feels, But thy trumpet: then it kneels, As peculiar notes and strains brother? Come away, O make no stay! Let the graves make their confession, Come away, Thy flock doth stray. Some to winds their body lend, Come away, Help our decay. Man is out of order hurl'd, CLX. JUDGMENT. ALMIGHTY Judge, how shall poor wretches brook Thy dreadful look, Able a heart of iron to appal, When thou shalt call For every man's peculiar book? What others mean to do, I know not well; That some will turn thee to some leaves therein That they in merit shall excel. But I resolve, when thou shalt call for mine, And thrust a Testament into thy hand: Let that be scann'd. There thou shalt find my faults are thine. CLXI. HEAVEN. O WHO will show me those delights on high? Есно. Thou Echo, thou art mortal, all men know. Есно. No. I. Wert thou not born among the trees and leaves? Есно. And are there any leaves, that still abide? Есно. Leaves. Bide. What leaves are they? impart the matter wholly. ECHO. Are holy leaves the Echo then of bliss? Есно. Yes. Then tell me, what is that supreme delight? Есно. Light. Holy. Light to the mind: what shall the will enjoy? ECHO. Joy. But are there cares and business with the pleasure? Есно. Leisure. Light, joy, and leisure; but shall they persever? Есно. Ever. CLXII. LOVE. LOVE bade me welcome yet my soul drew back, Guilty of dust and sin. But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning, A guest, I answer'd, worthy to be here: I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear, Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, Truth Lord, but I have marr'd them: let my shame Go where it doth deserve. And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame? My dear, then I will serve. You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat: So I did sit and eat. FINIS. GLORY BE TO GOD ON HIGH, AND ON EARTII PEACE, GOOD WILL TOWARDS MEN. |