LIV ON GOD'S OMNIPOTENCY. O every living worldly wight, Awake and dress yourself with speed, To serve and praise the God of might, From whom all bounty does proceed : For if ye drift and still refuse, The heaven and earth will you accuse. The brutal beasts without all strife They willingly his voice obey; The creatures that have no life Set forth his glory day by day; The heaven it is his dwelling place, His works are all before his face, Of hearts the secrets He does know; And every thing as in a glass The swift and active fiery sprights, The Cherubins of substance pure, They walk among the holy streits, And make him daily service sure; Yea at all times they ready stand To go and come at his command. His holy purpose to fulfil, And potent power to declare, The massive earth reposes still, Suspended in the cessile air; And at her due appointed hours 20 25 Brings forth most pleasant fruits and flowers. 30 What thing is fiercer than the sea? More raging than the awful deep? Which back retired at his decree, And doth her bounds and marches keep, Syne at his charge apart stood by, 35 To make his host a passage dry. The mighty winds blow to and fro Yet not conceive them with our sight: Like flocks of fowls the clouds above We wot not where, nor reason why: But to obey his holy law They pour out rain, sharp hail, and snaw. He made the sun, a lamp of light, A well of heat, to shine by day; He made the moon to guide the night, And set the stars in good array; Orion, Pleiads, and the Urse Obey their due prescribèd course. 45 50 O poets, pagans impudent, 55 Why worship ye the planets seven ? The glore of God by you is spent On idols and the host of heaven: Ye pride your pens men's ears to please 60 He is above Mercurius, Above Neptunus on the sea, The winds they know not Æolus, There is no Jupiter but He; And all your gods, both great and small, 65 But, sons of light, ye know the truth; LV 70 OF MY DEAR SON GERVASE BEAUMONT. Can I, who have for others oft compiled Sir John Beaumont. LVI DIRGE. Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: Fear no more the frown o'the great, To thee the reed is as the oak: Fear no more the lightning-flash, Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone ; Thou hast finished joy and moan: No exorciser harm thee! Nor no witchcraft charm thee! Quiet consummation have And renowned be thy grave! LVII William Shakespeare. ON THE TOMBS IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. Mortality behold and fear! What a change of flesh is here! Think how many royal bones Sleep within these heaps of stones; 5 ΙΟ 15 20 Here they lie, had realms and lands, Who now want strength to stir their hands, With the richest royallest seed Since the first man died for sin : Here the bones of birth have cried, 'Though gods they were, as men they died!' Here are sands, ignoble things, Dropt from the ruined sides of kings: Here's a world of pomp and state Buried in dust, once dead by fate. Francis Beaumont. LVIII DEATH'S FINAL CONQUEST. Victorious men of earth, no more Proclaim how wide your empires are; Though you bind-in every shore As night or day, Yet you, proud monarchs, must obey, And mingle with forgotten ashes, when Death calls ye to the crowd of common men. Devouring Famine, Plague, and War, Each able to undo mankind, Death's servile emissaries are; Nor to these alone confined, He hath at will More quaint and subtle ways to kill; A smile or kiss, as he will use the art, Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart. James Shirley. 5 10 15 5 10 15 |