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Then Sin combin'd with Death in a firm band,
To rase the building to the very floor;

Which they effected-none could them withstand;
But Love and Grace took Glory by the hand,
And built a braver palace than before.

VANITY.

THE fleet astronomer can bore,

And thread the spheres with his quick-piercing mind:

He views their stations, walks from door to door, Surveys, as if he had design'd

To make a purchase there : he sees their dances; And knoweth, long before,

Both their full-eyed aspects, and secret glances.

The nimble diver with his side

Cuts through the working waves, that he may fetch

His dearly-earned pearl, which God did hide

On purpose from the venturous wretch; That he might save his life, and also hers, Who with excessive pride

Her own destruction and his dangers wears.

The subtle chymic can divest
And strip the creature naked, till he find
The callow principles within their nest:
There he imparts them to his mind,
Admitted to their bed-chamber, before
They appear trim and drest

To ordinary suitors at the door.

What hath not man sought out and found, But his dear God? who yet his glorious law Embosoms in us, mellowing the ground

With showers and frost, with love and awe; So that we need not say, Where's this command ?Poor man! thou searchest round

To find out Death, but missest Life at hand.

VIRTUE.

SWEET day! So cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky,
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;
For thou must die.

Sweet rose! whose hue, angry and brave,
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
Thy root is ever in its grave;

And thou must die.

Sweet spring! full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,—
My music shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul,

Like season'd timber, never gives;

But though the whole world turn to a coal,
Then chiefly lives.

I KNOW the

THE PEARL.-MATT. XIII.

ways of learning; both the head And pipes that feed the press, and make it run; What reason hath from nature borrowed,

Or of itself, like a good housewife, spun
In laws and policy; what the stars conspire;
What willing nature speaks, what forc'd by fire;
Both th' old discoveries, and the new-found seas;
The stock and surplus, cause and history:
All these stand open, or I have the keys :—
Yet I love thee.

I know the ways of honour, what maintains
The quick returns of courtesy and wit:
In vies of favours whether party gains,
When glory swells the heart, and mouldeth it
To all expressions both of hand and eye,
Which on the world a true-love-knot may tie,
And bear the bundle, wheresoe'er it goes:
How many drams of spirits there must be
To sell my life unto my friends or foes:-
Yet I love thee.

I know the ways of pleasure, the sweet strains,
The lullings and the relishes of it;

The propositions of hot blood and brains;

What mirth and music mean; what love and wit
Have done these twenty hundred years, and more:
I know the projects of unbridled store:

My stuff is flesh, not brass; my senses live,
And grumble oft, that they have more in me
Than he that curbs them, being but one to five:-
Yet I love thee.

I know all these, and have them in my hand.
Therefore not sealed, but with open eyes
I fly to thee, and fully understand

Both the main sale, and the commodities;
And at what rate and price I have thy love;
With all the circumstances that may move.—
Yet through the labyrinths, not my grovelling wit,
But thy silk-twist let down from heav'n to me,
Did both conduct and teach me, how by it
To climb to thee.

MAN.

My God, I heard this day,

That none doth build a stately habitation,
But he that means to dwell therein.

What house more stately hath there been,
Or can be, than is man? to whose creation
All things are in decay.

For man is ev'ry thing,

And more: he is a tree, yet bears no fruit;
A beast, yet is, or should be more.
Reason and speech we only bring.
Parrots may thank us, if they are not mute;
They go upon the score.

Man is all symmetry,

Full of proportions, one limb to another,
And all to all the world besides:

Each part may call the furthest brother:
For head with foot hath private amity,
And both with moons and tides,

Nothing hath got so far,

But man hath caught and kept it, as his prey.
His eyes dismount the highest star:
He is in little all the sphere:

Herbs gladly cure our flesh, because that they
Find their acquaintance there.

For us the winds do blow;

The earth doth rest, heav'n move, and fountains flow.
Nothing we see, but means our good,

As our delight, or as our treasure:
The whole is either our cupboard of food,
Or cabinet of pleasure.

The stars have us to bed;

Night draws the curtain, which the sun withdraws :
Music and light attend our head.

All things unto our flesh are kind
In their descent and being; to our mind
In their ascent and cause.

Each thing is full of duty:

Waters united are our navigation;

Distinguished, our habitation; Below, our drink; above, our meat: Both are our cleanliness. Hath one such beauty? Then how are all things neat!

More servants wait on man,

Than he'll take notice of: in every path

He treads down that which doth befriend him,
When sickness makes him pale and wan.

Oh mighty love! Man is one world, and hath
Another to attend him.

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