THE FLAMING HEART. [Upon the book and picture of the Seraphica! Saint Theresa, as she is usually expressed with a Seraphim beside her.] O thou undaunted daughter of desires! By thy large draughts of intellectual day, And by thy thirsts of love more large than they; By all thy brim-fill'd bowls of fierce desire, By thy last morning's draught of liquid fire ; By the full kingdom of that final kiss That seiz'd thy parting soul, and seal'd thee His; By all of Him we have in thee; DESCRIPTION OF A RELIGIOUS HOUSE. No roofs of gold o'er riotous tables shining That chaste and cheap, as the few clothes we wear. Those, coarse and negligent, as the natural locks Obedient slumbers, that can wake and weep, And sing, and sigh, and work, and sleep again; And prize themselves; do much, that more they may, A respiration of reviving deaths. But neither are there those ignoble stings That nip the blossom of the world's best things, And lash Earth-labouring souls No cruel guard of diligent cares, that keep Crown'd woes awake, as things too wise for sleep: The self-remembring soul sweetly recovers Her kindred with the stars; not basely hovers Below but meditates her immortal way Home to the original source of Light and intellectual day, VOL. II. VAUGHAN. THE RETREAT. Happy those early days, when I Before I taught my tongue to wound But felt through all this fleshly dress O how I long to travel back, But ah! my soul with too much stay THE BURIAL OF AN INFANT. Blest infant bud, whose blossom-life Did only look about, and fall Sweetly didst thou expire: thy soul Softly rest all thy virgin-crumbs Lapt in the sweets of thy young breath, To dress them, and unswaddle death! THE WORLD. I saw Eternity the other night, Like a great ring of pure and endless light, And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years, Like a vast shadow mov'd; in which the world The doting lover in his quaintest strain Did there complain ; Near him, his lute, his fancy, and his slights, With gloves, and knots, the silly snares of pleasure, All scatter'd lay, while he his eyes did pour Upon a flower. The darksome statesman, hung with weights and woe, Condemning thoughts-like sad eclipses-scowl And clouds of crying witnesses without Pursued him with one shout. Yet digg'd the mole, and lest his ways be found, Where he did clutch his prey; but one did see Churches and altars fed him; perjuries It rain'd about him blood and tears, but he The fearful miser on a heap of rust Yet would not place one piece alone, but lives Thousands there were as frantic as himself, And hugg'd each one his pelf; The downright epicure plac'd heav'n in sense, While others, slipt into a wide excess, Said little less; The weaker sort, slight, trivial wares enslave, And poor despised Truth sate counting by Yet some, who all this while did weep and sing, O fools-said I-thus to prefer dark night |