When echo doth repeat thy painful cries, Think that the very stones thy sins bewray, And now accuse thee with their sad replies, As heaven and earth shall in the latter day. Let former faults be fuel of thy fire, For grief in limbeck" of thy heart to still; Thy pensive thoughts and dumps of thy desire, And vapour tears up to thy eyes at will. Let tears to tunes, and pains to plaints be prest, And let this be the burthen of thy song: "Come, deep remorse, possess my sinful breast; Delights, adieu! I harboured you too long." CONTENT AND RICH. I DWELL in grace's courts, Enriched with virtue's rights; Hope all my mind delights. In lowly vales I mount To pleasure's highest pitch, My silly shroud 3 sure honour brings, My poor estate is rich. My conscience is my crown, Contented thoughts my rest, My heart is happy in itself, Enough, I reckon wealth; A mean, the surest lot, That lies too high for base contempt, My wishes are but few, All easy to fulfil; I make the limits of my power The bounds unto my will. 2 Alembic. 3 Simple attire. I have no hopes but one, Which is of heavenly reign: Effects attained, or not desired, All lower hopes refrain. I feel no care of coin, Well-doing is my wealth: My mind to me an empire is, While grace affordeth health. I clip high-climbing thoughts, The wings of swelling pride: Their fate is worst, that from the height Of greater honour slide. Silk sails of largest size The storm doth soonest tear: I bear so low and small a sail I wrestle not with rage While fury's flame doth burn; It is in vain to stop the stream Until the tide doth turn. But when the flame is out, And ebbing wrath doth end, I turn a late-enraged foe Unto a quiet friend; And, taught with often proof, A tempered calm I find To be most solace to itself, Best cure for angry mind. Spare diet is my fare, My clothes more fit than fine: I know I feed and clothe a foe That pampered would repine. I envy not their hap Whom favour doth advance: I take no pleasure in their pain To rise by others' fall, I deem a losing gain: All states with others' ruins built No change of fortune's calms Can cast my comforts down: When fortune smiles, I smile to think How quickly she will frown; And when in froward mood She proved an angry foe, SCORN NOT THE LEAST. WHERE words are weak, and foes encountering strong, Where mightier do assault than do defend, The feebler part puts up enforced wrong, And silent sees that speech could not amend. Yet higher powers must think, though they repine, When sun is set the little stars will shine. The merlin cannot ever soar so high, Nor greedy greyhound still pursue the chase; The tender lark will find a time to fly, And fearful hare to run a quiet race: He that high growth on cedars did bestow, Gave also lowly mushrooms leave to grow. In Haman's pomp poor Mardocheus wept, Yet God did turn his fate upon his foe: We trample grass, and prize the flowers of May, EDMUND SPENSER. EDMUND SPENSER was born in London about 1553. He was educated at Pembroke Hall, Cambridge. He has been styled, by way of pre-eminence, the DIVINE POET OF ENGLAND. This may, perhaps, be somewhat incorrect; his writings have, however, a pure, elevating, and beautiful spirit of humanity; and his Divine Hymns, it has been well remarked, are indeed divine. Spenser was made Secretary of Ireland, and he obtained a grant of lands forfeited in the county of Cork. On the breaking out of Tyrone's rebellion, he was obliged to abandon his home so abruptly that one of his children perished in the flames which consumed his dwelling. He died shortly after, it is said of a broken heart, in 1599; and was buried, by his own desire, near the tomb of Chaucer, in Westminster Abbey. HEAVENLY LOVE. LOVE! lift me up upon thy golden wings From this base world unto thy heaven's height, Where I may see those admirable things Which there thou workest by thy sovereign might, Before this world's great frame, in which all things Ere flitting Time could wag his eyas1 wings About that mighty bound which doth embrace 1 Eyas, young, newly fledged; a young hawk not fit for flight. It loved itself because itself was fair (For fair is loved), and of itself begot, Like to itself, his eldest son and heir, Eternal, pure, and void of sinful blot, With Him He reigned before all time prescribed, Most wise, most holy, most Almighty Sprite, Whose kingdom's throne no thoughts of earthly wight Can comprehend, much less my trembling verse With equal words can hope it to rehearse. Yet, O most blessed Spirit! pure lamp of light, Some little drop of thy celestial dew, That may my rhymes with sweet infuse imbrue, Yet being pregnant still with powerful grace, And full of fruitful love, that loves to get His second brood, though not of power so great, An infinite increase of angels bright, All glist'ning glorious in their Maker's light. To shew the heaven's illimitable height, (Not this round heaven which we from hence behold,) Adorned with thousand lamps of burning light, And with ten thousand gems of shining gold, He gave as their inheritance to hold, That they might serve him in eternal bliss, |