Look as a thirsty palm full Jordan drinks,
(Whose leaf and fruit still live, when winter dies)
With conqu'ring branches crowns the river's brinks;
And summer's fires, and winter's frosts defies:

All so the soul, whom that clear light revives,
Still springs, buds, grows, and dying time sur-
vives.

But as the dust of chaff, cast in the air,
Sinks in the dirt, and turns to dung and mire;
So sinners, driv'n to Hell by fierce despair,
Shall fry in ice, and freeze in hellish fire:

For he, whose flaming eyes all actions turn,
Sees both; to light the one, the other burn.

PSALM CXXX,

FROM the deeps of grief and fear,
O Lord! to thee my soul repairs:
From thy Heaven bow down thine ear;
Let thy mercy meet my prayers.
Oh! if thou mark'st
What's done amiss,
What soul so pure,

Can see thy bliss ?

But with thee sweet Mercy stands,
Sealing pardons, working fear:
Wait, my soul, wait on his hands;
Wait, mine eye, oh! wait, mine ear:
If he his eye

Or tongue affords,
Watch all his looks,

Catch all his words,

As a watchman waits for day,
And looks for light, and looks again;
When the night grows old and gray,
To be reliev'd he calls amain:

So look so wait,

So long mine eyes, ·

To see my Lord,

My Sun, arise.

Wait, ye saints, wait on our Lord:

For from his tonguc sweet mercy flows:
Wait on his cross, wait on his word;

Upon that tree redemption grows:
He will redeem

His Israel

From sin and wrath,

From death and Hell.

AN HYMN.

WAKE, O my soul! awake, and raise
Up every part to sing his praise,
Who from his sphere of glory fell,
To raise thee up from death and Heil:
See now his soul. vext for thy sin,
Weeps blood wit out, fels Hell within:
See where he hangs:
Hark how he cries:
Oh, bitter pangs!
Now, now, he dies.

Wake,

mine eyes! awake, and view Those two twin lights, whence Heavens drew

To cry for vengeance

Sin doth never cease:

In your deep floods

Drown all my faults and fears;
Nor let his eye

See sin, but through my tears.

ON MY FRIEND'S PICTURE, WHO DIED IN TRAVEL. THOUGH NOW to Heav'n thy travels are confin'd, Thy wealth, friends, life, and country, all are lost; Yet in this picture we thee living find;

And thou with lesser travel, lesser cost,

Hast found new life, friends, wealth, and better

coast:

So by thy death thon liv'st, by loss thou gain'st;
And in thy absence present still remain'st.

UPON DR. PLAYFER.

Who lives with death, by death in death is lying;
But he who living dies, best lives by dying:
Who life to truth, who death to errour gives,
In life may die, by death more surely lives.
My soul in Heaven breathes, in schools my fame:
Then on my tomb write nothing but my name.

Or, if thou may'st not stay, oh, punish rather
The part offending, this rebellious heart!
Why pardon'st thou the worse, and plagu'st my
better part?

"Wast not thy band, that tied the sacred knot?
Was't not thy kand, that to my hand did give him?
Hast thou not made us one? command'st thou not,
None loose what thou hast bound? If then thou

reave him,

[him! How, without me, by halves dost thou receive Tak'st thou the head, and leav'st the heart bekind?

Ay me in me alone caust thou such monster find?

Oh, why dost thou so strong me weak assail?
Woman of all thy creatures is the weakest,
And in ber greatest strength did weakly fail;
Thou who the weak and bruised never breakest,
Who never triumph in the yielding seekest;
Pity my weak estate, and leave me never :
I ever yet was weak, and now more weak than
ever."

With that her fainting spouse lifts up his head,
And with some joy his inward griefs refraining,
Thus with a feeble voice, yet cheerful, said:
"Spend not in tears this little time remaining;

Thy grief doth add to mine, not ease my paining:
My death is life; such is the scourge of God:
Ah! if his rod be such, who would not kiss his
rod?

"I touch the shore, and see my rest preparing.
Oh, blessed God! how infinite a blessing
Is in this thought, that thro' this troubled faring,
Through all the faults this guilty age depressing
I guiltless past, no helpless man oppressing;
And coming now to thee, lift to the skies
Unbribed hauds, cleans'd heart, and never tainted
eyes!

"Life, life! how many Scyllas dost thou hide
In thy calm streams, which sooner kill than
threaten!

[pride! Gold, honour, greatness, and their daughter, More quiet lives, and less with tempests beaten, Whose middle state content doth richly sweeten ! He knows not strife, or brabling lawyers' brawls; His love and wish live pleas'd within his private walls.

"The king he never sees, nor fears, nor prays;
Nor sits court promise and false hopes lamenting:
Within that house he spends and ends his days,
Where day he viewed first; his heart's contenting,
His wife, and babes; nor sits new joys inventing
Unspotted there, and quiet, he remains ;
And 'mong his dutcous sons most lov'd and fear-
less reigns.

"Thou God of Peace, with what a gentle tide
Through this world's raging tempest hast thou
brought me?

Thou, thou my open soul didst safely hide,
When thousand crafty foes so nearly sought me ;
Else had the endless pit too quickly caught me;
That endless pit, where it is easier never
To fall, than being fall'n, to cease from falling ever.

"I never knew or want or luxury,

Much less their followers; or cares tormenting,
Or ranging lust, or base-bred flattery:
I lov'd, and was belov'd with like consenting:
My hate was hers, her joy my sole contenting:
Thus long I liv'd, and yet have never prov'd
Whether I lov'd her more, or more by her was
lov'd.

"Four babes (the fifth with thee I soon shall find)
With equal grace in soul and body fram'd:
And lest these goods might swell my bladder'd
mind,

(Which last I name, but should not last be nam'd)
A sickness long my stubborn heart hath tam'd,
And taught me pleasing goods are not the best;
But most unblest he lives, that lives here ever blest.
"Ah, life! once virtue's spring, now sink of evil!
Thou change of pleasing pain, and painful pleasure;
Thou brittle painted bubble, shop o' th' Devil;
How dost thou bribe us with false guilded treasure,
That in thy joys we find no mean or measure!
How dost thou witch! I know thou dost deceive
[thee.
I know I should, I must, and yet I would not leave
"Ah, death! once greatest ill, now only blessing,
Entroubled sleep, short travel, ever resting,
All sickness' cure, thou end of all distressing,
Thou one meal's fast, usher to endless feasting;
Tho' hopeless griefs cry out, thy aid requesting,
Tho' thou art sweeten'd by a life most hateful,
How is't, that when thou com'st, thy coming is
ungrateful?

me:

"Frail flesh, why would'st thou keep a hated guest,
And him refuse whom thou hast oft invited ?
Life thy tormenter, death thy sleep and rest.
And thou, (poor soul!) why at his sight art frighted,
Who clears thine eyes, and makes thee eagle-
sighted?

Mount now, my soul, and seat thee in thy throne:
Thou shalt be one with him, by whom thou first

wast one.

"Why should'st thou love this star, this borrow'd

light,

And not that Sun, at which thou oft hast guessed,
But guess'd in vain? which dares thy piercing sight,
Which never was, which cannot be expressed?
Why lov'st thy load, and joy'st to be oppressed?
Seest thou those joys? those thousand thousand
graces?
[embraces.
Mount now, iny soul, and leap to those outstretch'd
"Dear country, I must leave thee; and in thee
No benefit, which most doth pierce and grieve me:
Yet, had not hasty death prevented me,
I would repay my life, and somewhat give thee:
My sons for that I leave; and so I leave thee:
Thus Heav'n commands; the lord outrides the
page,

And is arriv'd before: death hath prevented age.
"My dearest Betty, my more loved heart,
I leave thee now; with thee all carthly joying:
Heav'n knows, with thee alone I sadly part:
All other earthly sweets have had their cloying;
Yet never full of thy sweet loves' enjoying,
Thy constant loves, next Heav'n, I did refer
them :

Had not much grace prevail'd, 'fore Heav'n I should

prefer them.

So weep thy loss, as knowing 'tis my blessing:
Both as a widow and a Christian grieve:
Still live I in thy thoughts, but as in Heav'n I live.

"Death, end of our joys, entrance into new,

I follow thee, I know I am thy debtor;
Not unexpect thou com'st to claim thy due;
Take here thine own, my soul's too heavy fetter;
Not life, life's place I change, but for a better;
Take thou my soul, that bought'st it: cease your ·

tears:

Who sighing leaves the Earth, himself and Heaven

fears."

And now the courts of that thrice blessed King
It enters, and his presence sits enjoying;
While in itself it finds an endless spring
Of pleasures new, and never weary joying,
Ne'er spent in spending; feeding, never cloying:
Weak pen to write! for thought can never feign
them:
[tain them.

The mind that all can hold, yet cannot half con.

There doth it blessed sit, and looking down,
Laughs at our busy care, and idle paining;
And fitting to itself that glorious crown, [reigning;
Scorns Earth, where even kings most serve by
Where men get wealth, and Hell; so lose by
gaining.

Ah, blessed soul! there sit thou still delighted,
Till we at length to him with thee shall be united.

But when at last his lady sad espies
His flesh of life, herself of him deprived,
Too full of grief, closing his quenched eyes,
As if in him, by him, for him she lived,

Fell dead with him; and once again revived,
Fell once again, pain weary of his paining,
And grief with too much grief felt now no grief
remaining.

Again reliev'd, all silent sat she long;

No word to name such grief durst first adventure:
Grief is but light that floats upon the tongue,
But weighty sorrow presses to the centre,
And never rests till th' heavy heart it enter;
And in life's house was married to life:
Grief made life grievous seem, and life enlivens

[grief:

And from their bed proceeds a numerous press,
First shrieks, then tears and sighs, the heart's
ground renting:

In vain poor Muse would'st thou such dole express;
For thou thyself lamenting her lamenting,

And with like grief transform'd to like torment-
ing,

With heavy pace bring'st forth thy lagging verse, Which cloth'd with blackest lines attends the mournful herse.

The cunning hand which that Greek princess drew
Ready in holy fires to be consum'd,

Pity and sorrow paints in divers hue; [fume;
One wept, he pray'd, this sigh'd, that chaf'd and
But not to limu her father's look presum'd :
For well he knew his skilful hand bad fail'd:
Best was his sorrow seen, when with a cloth 'twas
yeil'd,

Look as a nightingale, whose callow young [taken
Some boy hath mark'd, and now half nak'd hath
Which long she closely kept, and foster'd long,
But all in vain: abe now poor bird forsaken

Flies up and down, but grief no place can slacken ;
All day and night her loss she fresh doth rue,
And where she ends her plaints, there soon bagins

anew:

Thus circling in her grief it never ends,
But moving round back to itself inclineth:
Both day and night alike in grief she spends :
Day shows her day is gone, no sun there shineth :
Black night her fellow mourner she defineth:
Light shows his want, and shades his picture
draw:
[she saw.
Him (nothing) best she sees, when nothing, now

Thou blacker Muse, whose rude uncombed hairs
Bring hither all thy sighs, hither thy tears:
With fatal yew and cypress still are shaded;
As sweet a plant, as fair a flower is faded,

As ever in the Muses' garden bladed;

While th' owner (hapless owner) sits lamenting, And but in discontent and grief, finds no contenting.

The sweet (now sad) Eliza weeping lies,
While fair Alicia's words in vain relieve her;
In vain those wells of grief she often dries:
What her so long, now doubled sorrows give her,
What both their loves (which doubly double
grieve her)

She careless spends without or end or measure;
Yet as it spends, it grows, poor grief can tell his

treasure.

All as a turtle on a bared bough

(A widow turtle) joy and life despises,
Whose trusty mate (to pay his holy vow)
Some watchful eye late in his roost surprises,
And to his god for errour sacrifices;

She joyless bird sits mourning all alone; [none:
And being one when two, would now be two, or
So sat she, gentle lady, weeping sore,
Her desert self and now cold lord lamenting;
So sat she careless on the dusty floor,
As if her tears were all her soul's contenting;
So sat she, as when speechless griefs tormenting
Locks up the heart, the captive tongue enchain-
So sat she joyless down in worldless grief com-
ing;
[plaining.
Her cheerful eye (which once the crystal was,
Where love and beauty dress'd their fairest faces,
And fairer sceni'd by looking in that glass)
Had now in tears drown'd all their former graces:
Her snow white arms, whose warm and sweet
embraces

Could quicken death, their now-dead lord enfold, And seem'd as cold and dead as was the flesh they hold.

The roses in her check grow pale and wan;
As if his pale cheeks' livery they affected:
Her head, like fainting flowers oppress'd with rain,
On her left shoulder lean'd his weight neglected:
Her dark gold locks hung loosely unrespected;
As if those fairs, which he alone deserv'd,
With him had lost their use, and now for nothing
serv'd.