Ev'n poyfons praise thee. Should a thing be loft?
Should creatures want, for want of heed, their du
Since where are poyfons, antidotes are most;
The help ftands clofe, and keeps the fear in view.

The fea, which feems to ftop the traveller,
Is by a fhip the fpeedier paffage made.
The winds, who think they rule the Mariner,
Are rul'd by him, and taught to ferve his trade.

And as thy houfe is full, fo I adore

Thy curious art in marfhalling thy goods.
The hills with health abound; the vales with f
The South with marble; North with furs and wo

Hard things are glorious; eafie things good ch
The common all men have: that which is rare
Men therefore seek to have, and care to keep.
The healthy frofts with fummer fruits compare

Light without wind is glaffe: warm without Is wool and furs: cool, without clofeneffe, fha Speed without pains, a horfe: tall without hei A fervile hawk: low without Ioffe, a spade.

All countreys have enough to ferve their need
If they feek fine things, thou doft make them
For their offence; and then doft turn their fp
To be commerce and trade from fun to fun.

Nothing wears clothes but Man; nothing doth n
But he to wear them. Nothing ufeth fire,
But Man alone, to fhew his heav'nly breed :.
And only he hath fewel in defire.

When th'earth was dry, thou mad'ft a fea of w whe chat lay gather'd, thou didst broch the mo when yet fome places could no moisture get, The winds grew gardners, and the clouds goo

17

ain, do not hurt my flowers,; but gently spend
our honey drops:prefs not to fmell them here:
When they are ripe, their odour will ascend,
nd at your lodging with their thanks appear.

w harsh are thorns to pears! and yet they make
better hedge, and need lefs reparation.
wfmooth are filks compared with a stake,
with a ftone! yet make no good foundation.

metimes thou doft divide thy gifts to man,
metimes unite. The Indian nut alone

ching, meat and trencher, drink and cann,
cable, fail and needle, all in one.

herbs that grow in brooks, are hot and dry.
fruits warm kernels help against the wind.
lmons juyce and rind cure mutually.
hey of milk doth loose, the milk doth bind.

creatures leap not, but exprefs a feaft,
all the guests fit close, and nothing wants.
marry fifh and flefk; bats, bird and beast;
ges, non-fenfe & fenfe; mines,th' earth & plants

few thou art not bound, as if thy lot
Were morfe than ours, fomtimes thou fhifteft hands.
dof things move th’under-jaw; the Crocodile not,
of things fleep lying, th Elephant leans or ftands.

who hath praise enough? nay, who hath any
one can exprefs thy works,but he that knows th
had one can know thy works which are fo
And lo compleat, but only he that ows them.

All things that are, though they have fev
Yet in their being joyn with one advice
To honour thee: and fo I give thee pr
all my other hymns, but in this c

Each thing that is, although in use and name
It go for one, hath many ways in store
To honour thee: and fo each hymn thy fame
Extolleth many ways, yet this one more.

¶ Hope.

I

Gave to hope a Watch of mine: but he

An anchor gave to me.

Then an old Prayer-book I did prefent:

And he an optick fent.

With that I gave a vial full of tears:

But he a few

green ears.

Ah Loyterer! I'le no more, no more I'le bring:
I did expect a ring.

¶ Sins round.

Orry I am, my God, forry I am,

That my offences courfe it in a ring.

My thoughts are working like a bufie flame,
Until their Cockatrice they hatch and bring:
And when they have once perfected their draughts,
My words take fire from my inflamed thoughts.

My words take fire from my inflamed thoughts,
Which spit it forth like the Sicilian hill.

They vent the wares, and pass them with their faults
And by their breathings ventilate the ill.

But words fuffice not, where are lewd intentions: My hands do joyn to finish the inventions.

20

My hands do joyn to finish the inventions:
And fo my fins afcend three ftories high,
As Babel grew, before there were diffentions.
Yet ill deeds loyter not: for they supply

25

New thoughts of finning: wherefore to my fhame, Torry I am, my God, forry I am.

30

Time.

Eeting with Time, Slack thing, faid I, Thy fithe is dull, whet it for fhame. marvel, Sir, he did reply,

at length deserve some blame:

But where one man would have me grind it, Twenty for one too fharp do find it.

erhaps fome fuch of old did pafs, vho above all things lov'd this life; To whom thy fithe a hatchet was, Which now is but a pruning knife.

Chrifts coming hath made man thy debter, Since by thy cutting he grows better.

And in his bleffing thou art bleft:
For where thou only wert before
An executioner at beft;

Thou art a gard'ner now and more.
An usher to convey our fouls
Beyond the utmost stars aud poles.

And this is that makes life fo long,
While it detains us from our God.
Ev'n pleasures here increase the wrong:
And length of days lengthen the rod.
Who wants the place where God doth dwell,
Partakes already half of hell.

Of what ftrange length must that needs be,
Which ev'n eternity excludes !

Thus far Time heard me patiently:
Then chafing faid, this man deludes:
What do I here before his door?
He doth not crave lef's time, but more.

Gr

Gratefulness.

THou that haft given fo much to me,
Give one thing more, a grateful heart.
See how thy begger works on thee

By art.

He makes thy gifts occafion more,
And fays, if he in this be croft,
All thou haft giv'n him heretofore
Is loft.

But thou didst reckon, when at firft
Thy words our hearts and hands did crave,
What it would come to at the worst

To fave.

Perpetual knockings at thy door,
Tears fullying thy tranfparent rooms,
Gift upon gift, much would have more,
And comes.

This notwithstanding, thou wentft on,
And didft allow us all our noise:
Nay, thou haft made a figh and grone

Not that thou haft not still above

Thy joyes.

Much better tunes than grones can make;
But that these conntrey-aires thy love

Did take.

Wherefore I cry, and cry again;

And in no quiet canft thou be,

Till I a thankful heart obtain

Of thee: