XXXIII.

TO THE KING1

(CHARLES I.).

(By George Sandys. Born 1577; died 1644.)

UR graver Muse from her long dream awakes;

Peneian groves and Cirrha's caves
forsakes;

Inspired with zeal, she climbs the ethereal hills
Of Solyma, where bleeding balm distils;
Where trees of life unfading youth assure,
And living waters all diseases cure;
Where the sweet singer, in celestial lays,
Sung to his solemn harp Jehovah's praise.
From that fallen Temple on her wings she bears
Those heavenly raptures to your sacred ears.
Not that her bare and humble feet aspire
To mount the threshold of the harmonious choir;
But that at once she might oblations bring
To God, and tribute to a god-like king.
And since no narrow verse such mysteries,
Deep sense, and high expressions could comprise,
Her labouring wings a larger compass fly,
And Poesy resolves with Poesy;

Lest she, who in the Orient clearly rose,

Should in your Western world obscurely close.

' Prefixed to Sandys' "Paraphrase upon the Psalms of David," 1636.

Then brought'st me home in safety, that this earth
Might bury me, which fed me from my birth;
Blest with a healthful age, a quiet mind;
Content with little; to this work designed;
Which I at length have finished by Thy aid,
And now my vows have at Thy altar paid.

XXXV.

A HYMN TO MY REDEEMER.1
(By George Sandys.)

AVIOUR of mankind, Man, Emmanuel,
Who sinless died for sin, who van-
quished hell,

The first-fruits of the grave; whose

life did give

Light to our darkness; in whose death we live;

Correct my will, Protect me still, devour

O strengthen Thou my faith!
That mine may Thine obey!
So that the latter death may not
My soul, sealed with Thy seal! So in the hour
When Thou, whose body sanctified this tomb,
Unjustly judged, a glorious Judge shalt come
To judge the world with justice, by that sign.
I may be known, and entertained for Thine!

Sandys' "Relation of a Journey begun A. D. 1610," 1615, p. 167. These are the lines referred to in the last poem, as an offering hung upon the sepulchre of Christ.

XXXIV.

DEO OPT. MAX.1

(By George Sandys.)

THOU, who all things hast of nothing

made,

Whose hand the radiant firmament dis-
played,

With such an undiscerned swiftness hurled
About the steadfast centre of the world;
Against whose rapid course the restless sun,
And wandering flames in varied motions run,
Which heat, light, life infuse; time, night, and day
Distinguish; in our human bodies sway:

That hung'st the solid earth in fleeting air,
Veined with clear springs. which ambient seas repair.
In clouds the mountains wrap their hoary heads;
Luxurious valleys clothed with flowery meads;
Her trees yield fruit and shade; with liberal breasts
All creatures she, their common mother, feasts.
Then man Thy image madest; in dignity,
In knowledge, and in beauty, like to Thee;
Placed in a heaven on earth; without his toil*
The ever-flourishing and fruitful soil
Unpurchased food produced; all creatures were
His subjects, serving more for love than fear.
He knew no lord but Thee; but when he fell
From his obedience, all at once rebel,

Appended to the same, pp. 240-4.

And in his ruin exercise their might;
Concurring elements against him fight;
Troops of unknown diseases, sorrow, age,
And death assail him with successive rage.
Hell let forth all her furies; none so great
As man to man:-ambition, pride, deceit,
Wrong armed with power, lust, rapine, slaughter
reigned,

And flattered vice the name of virtue gained.
Then hills beneath the swelling waters stood,
And all the globe of earth was but one flood,
Yet could not cleanse their guilt. The following race
Worse than their fathers, and their sons more base;
Their god-like beauty lost; sin's wretched thrall;
No spark of their divine original

Left unextinguished; all enveloped

With darkness; in their bold transgressions dead: When Thou didst from the East a light display, Which rendered to the world a clearer day; Whose precepts from Hell's jaws our steps withdraw, And whose example was a living law;

Who purged us with His blood; the way prepared To Heaven, and those long chained-up doors unbarred.

How infinite Thy mercy! which exceeds

The world thou madest, as well as our misdeeds;
Which greater reverence than Thy justice wins,
And still augments Thy honour by our sins.
O who hath tasted of Thy clemency
In greater measure or more oft than I!
My grateful verse Thy goodness shall display,
O Thou who went'st along in all my way,
To where the morning with perfumed wings