To that clear majesty which in the North

Doth, like another fun, in glory rife, [worth; Which ftandeth fix'd, yet fpreads her heav'nly Loadstone to hearts, and loadftar to all eyes.

Like heav'n in all, like earth to this alone,
That tho' great ftates by her fupport do stand;
Yet the herself fupported is of none,

But by the finger of th' Almighty's hand.

To the divineft and the richest mind,

Both by art's purchase, and by nature's dow'r, That ever was from heaven to earth confin'd, To fhew the utmost of a creature's pow'r :

Fair foul, fince to the fairest body join'd,

You give fuch lively life, fuch quick'ning pow'r And influence of fuch celestial kind,

As keeps it still in youth's immortal flower:

As where the fun is prefent all the year,

And never doth retire his golden ray,
Needs must the fpring be everlafting there,
And every season like the month of May.

O! many, many years may you remain
A happy angel to this happy land:
Long, long may you on earth our emprefs reign,
Ere you in heaven a glorious angel stand.

Stay long (fweet fpirit) ere thou to heaven depart,
Who mak'il each place a heaven wherein thou art.

HER MAJESTY'S
Devoted Subjec

And Servant,

JOHN DAVIES,

WHY did my parents fend me to the schools,
That I with knowledge might enrich my mind?
Since the defire to know firft made men fools,
And did corrupt the root of all mankind;

For when God's hand had written in the hearts
Of the first parents, all the rules of good,
So that their skill infus'd, and did pass all arts
That ever were, before, or fince the flood;

And when their reasons eye was sharp and clear,
And (as an eagle can behold the fun)
Could have approach'd th' eternal light as near,
As th' intellectual angels could have done :

E'en then to them th' fpirit of lies fuggefts,

That they were blind, because they faw not ill, And breath'd into their incorrupted breafts

A curious wish, which did corrupt their will.

For that fame ill they straight defir'd to know; Which ill, being naught but a defect of good, In all God's works the Devil could not show, While man their Lord in his perfection stood.

So that themfelves were firft to do the ill,

Ere they thereof the knowledge could attain,
Like him that knew not poifon's power to kill,
Until (by tafting it) himself was flain.

E'en fo by tafting of that fruit forbid, [find;
Where they fought knowledge they did error
Ill they defir'd to know, and ill they did;
And to give paffion eyes, made reafon blind.

For then their minds did firft in paffion fee
Those wretched fhapes of mifery and woe,
Of nakedness, of shame, of poverty,
Which then their own experience made them

[know.

But then grew reafon dark, that the no more,
Could the fair forms of good and truth discern,
Bats they became, that eagles were before;
And this they got by their defire to learn.

But we, their wretched offspring, what do we? Do not we ftill tafte of the fruit forbid? Whilft with fond fruitless curiosity,

In books profane we feek for knowledge hid.

What is this knowledge? but the fky-ftol'n fire,

For which the thief still chain'd in ice doth fit? And which the poor rude fatyr ↑ did admire, And needs would kiss, but burnt his lips with t

What is it? but the cloud of empty rain, [göt?

Which when Jove's guest | embrac'd,he monsters Or the falle pails, which oft being fill'd with pain? Receiv'd the water, but retain'd it not?

In fine, what is it? but the fiery coach

Which the youth sought, and sought his death withal?

Or the boy's wings, which when he did approach The fun's hot beams, did melt and let him fall?

And yet alas! when all our lamps are burn'd,

Our bodies wafted, and our spirits spent ; When we have all the learned volumes turn'd Which yield men's wits both help and ornament: What can we know? or what can we difcern?

When error choaks the windows of the mind; The divers forms of things, how can we learn? That have been ever from our birth-day blind? When reafon's lamp, which (like the fun in fky), Throughout man's little world her beams did fpread,

Is now become a sparkle, which doth lie

Under the afhes, half extinct, and dead: How can we hope, that through the eye and ear, This dying fparkle, in this cloudy place, Can recollect thefe beams of knowledge clear, Which were infus'd in the first minds by grace!

So might the heir, whose father hath in play
Wafted a thousand pounds of ancient rent,
By painful earning of one groat a day,
Hope to restore the patrimony spent.

The wits that div'd moft deep, and foar'd moft
high.
[fuch:
Seeking man's pow'rs, have found his weakness
"Skill comes fo flow, and life so fast doth fly,
"We learn fo little and forget so much.”

For this the wifeft of all moral men

Said, He knew nought, but that he nought did know,

And the great mocking-master mock'd not then, When he faid, Truth was buried deep below.

For how may we to other things attain,

When none of us his own Soul understands? For which the Devil mocks our curious brain, When, know thyself, his oracle commands.

For why fhould we the bufy Soul believe,
When boldly the concludes of that and this,
When of herfelf she can no judgment give, [is.
Nor how, nor whence, nor where, not what the

All things without, which round about we see,
We feek to know, and how therewith to do:
But that whereby we reason, live and be,
Within ourselves, we ftrangers are thereto.

We feek to know the moving of each sphere,

At first the startles, then she stands amaz'd;
At laft with terror the from thence doth fly,
And loathes the watry glass wherein she gaz'd,
And shuns it still, though the for thirst doth
die:

E'en fo man's Soul which did God's image bear,
And was at first fair, good, and spotless pure,
Since with her fins her beauties blotted were,
Doth of all fights her own fight least endure:

For e'en at firft reflection fhe efpies
Such strange chimeras, and such monsters there,
Such toys, fuch antics, and fuch vanities,

As the retires, and shrinks for shame and fear.

And as the man loves least at home to be,

That hath a fluttish house haunted with sprites; So fhe impatient her own faults to fee,

Turns from herself, and in strange things delights.

For this few know themselves: for merchants broke

View their eftate with discontent and pain, And feas are troubled, when they do revoke

Their flowing waves into themselves again.

And while the face of outward things we find,
Pleafing and fair, agreeable and sweet,
These things tranfport, and carry out the mind,
That with herself the mind can never meet.

Nile;

But of that clock within our breafts we bear, The subtle motions we forget the while.

And threat the feebler fenfe with fword and fire,

The mind contracts herself, and shrinketh in,
And to herself she gladly doth retire:

As fpiders touch'd, seek their web's inmost part ; As bees in forms back to their hives return; As blood in danger gathers to the heart;

As men feck towns, when foes the country burn.

If aught can teach us aught, affliction's looks, (Making us pry into ourselves fo near) Teach us to know ourselves beyond all books,

Or all the learned schools that ever were.

This miftrefs lately pluck'd me by the ear,

And many a golden leffon hath me taught; Hath made my fenfes quick, and reafon clear; Reform'd my will and rectify'd my thought.

So do the winds and thunders cleanse the air:
So working feas fettle and purge the wine:
So lopp'd and pruned trees do flourish fair:
So doth the fire the droffy gold refine.

Neither Minerva, nor the learned Muse,

Nor rules of art, nor precepts of the wife, Could in my brain those beams of skill infufe, As but the glance of this dame's angry eyes.

She within lifts my ranging mind hath brought,
That now beyond myself I will not go;
Myfelf am centre of my circling thought,
Only myself I ftudy, learn, and know.

I know my Body's of fo frail a kind,

As force without, fevers within can kill : I know the heavenly nature of my mind,

But 'tis corrupted both in wit and will:

I know my Soul hath power to know all things,
Yet is the blind and ignorant in all :
I know I'm one of nature's little kings,

Yet to the least and vilest things am thrall.

I know my life's a pain, and but a span;
I know my fenfe is mock'd in ev'ry thing;
And to conclude, I know myself a man,
Which is a proud, and yet a wretched thing.

Tue lights of heav'n (which are the world's fair eyes)

Look down into the world, the world to fee; And as they turn or wander in the skies, Survey all things that on this centre be.

And yet the lights which in my tow'r do shine, Mine eyes, which view all objects nigh and far, Look not into this little world of mine,

Nor fee my face, wherein they fixed are,

Since Nature fails us in no needful thing,
Why want I means my inward felf to fee?
Which fight the knowledge of myself might bring,
Which to true wisdom is the first degree.

That Pow'r, which gave me eyes the world to view,

To view myfelf, infus'd an inward light,
Whereby my Soul, as by a mirror true,
Of her own form may take a perfect fight.

But as the fharpeft eye difcerneth nought,
Except the fun-beams in the air do fhine;
So the best Soul, with her reflecting thought,
Sees not herself without fome light divine.

O light, which mak'st the light, which makes the day!

Which fet'ft the eye without, and mind within, Lighten my fpirit with one clear heavenly ray, Which now to view itself doth first begin,