134

THE ENTERTAINMENT.

No wanton songs of sirens can surprise
With false delight; whose more than eagle-eyes
Can view the glorious flames of gold, and gaze
On glitt❜ring beams of honour, and not daze;
Whose souls can spurn at pleasure, and deny
The loose suggestions of the flesh, draw nigh:

And you, whose am'rous, whose select desires
Would feel the warmth of those transcendent fires,
Which (like the rising sun), put out the light
Of Venus' star, and turn her day to night;
You that would love, and have your passions
crown'd

With greater happiness than can be found
In your own wishes; you that would affect
Where neither scorn, nor guile, nor disrespect
Shall wound your tortur'd souls; that would enjoy
Where neither want can pinch, nor fulness cloy,
Nor double doubt afflicts, nor baser fear

Unflames your courage in pursuit, draw near,
Shake hands with earth, and let your soul respect
Her joys no farther than her joys reflect
Upon her Maker's glory; if thou swim

In wealth, see him in all; see all in him:
Sink'st thou in want, and is thy small cruse spent?
See him in want: enjoy him in content:

Conceiv'st him lodg'd in cross, or lost in pain?
In prayer and patience find him out again:
Make Heav'n thy mistress, let no change remove
Thy royal heart, be fond, be sick of love:
What, if he stop his ear, or knit his brow?
At length he'll be as fond, as sick as thou;

F

Dart up thy soul in groans: thy secret groan
Shall pierce his ear, shall pierce his ear alone:
Dart up thy soul in vows: thy sacred vow
Shall find him out, where Heav'n alone shall know:
Dart up thy soul in sighs: thy whisp'ring sigh
Shall rouse his ears, and fear no list'ner nigh:
Send up thy groans, thy sighs, thy closet-vow;
There's none, there's none shall know but Heav'n
and thou.

Groans fresh'd with vows, and vows made salt with tears;

Unscale his eyes, and scale his conquer'd ears: Shoot up the bosom shafts of thy desire,

Feather'd with faith, and double-fork'd with fire; And they will hit: fear not, where Heav'n bids

come,

Heav'n's never deaf, but when man's heart is dumb.

My soul

GOOD GOD! W My groping sou In utter shades, Lark in the bos The bold-fac'd And with his

My soul hath desired thee in the night.

GOOD GOD! what horrid darkness doth surround
My groping soul! how are my senses bound
In utter shades, and muffled from the light,
Lurk in the bosom of eternal night!

The bold-fac'd lamp of Heav'n can set and rise;
And with his morning glory fill the eyes

Of gazing mortals; his victorious ray

Can chase the shadows, and restore the day:
Night's bashful empress, though she often wane,
As oft repeats her darkness, primes again;
And, with her circling horns, doth re-embrace
Her brother's wealth, and orbs her silver face.
But ah! my sun, deep swallow'd in his fall,
Is set, and cannot shine, nor rise at all:
My bankrupt wain can beg nor borrow light;
Alas! my darkness is perpetual night.

Falls have their risings, wanings have their primes,
And desp❜rate sorrows wait their better times:
Ebbs have their floods, and autumns have their
springs:

All states have changes hurried with the swings
Of chance and time, still riding to and fro:
Terrestrial bodies, and celestial too.
How often have I vainly grop'd about,
With lengthen'd arms to find a passage out,
That I might catch those beams mine eye desires,
And bathe my soul in those celestial fires!
Like as the haggard, cloister'd in her mew,
To scour her downy robes, and to renew
Her broken flags, preparing t' overlook
The tim'rous mallard at the sliding brook,
Jets oft from perch to perch; from stock to ground;
From ground to window; thus surveying round
Her dove-befeather'd prison, till at length
(Calling her noble birth to mind, and strength
Whereto her wing was born) her ragged beak
Nips off her jangling jesses, strives to break