LOVE. MMORTAL Love, author of this great frame, How hath man parcelled out thy glorious name, And thrown it on that dust which thou hast made, While mortal love doth all the title gain! Which siding with Invention, they together Bear all the sway, possessing heart and brain— Wit fancies beauty, beauty raiseth wit; The world is theirs; they two play out the game, Who sings thy praise? Only a scarf or glove |ORD, with what care hast Thou begirt us round! Parents first season us; then schoolmasters Deliver us to laws; they send us bound To rules of reason, holy messengers, Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in, The sound of glory ringing in our ears; GEORGE HERBERT. Y God, where is that ancient heat towards Thee burn, Besides their other flames? Doth poetry Wear Venus' livery,-only serve her turn? Or, since thy ways are deep, and still the same, ON HIS BLINDNESS. HEN I consider how my light is spent And that one talent, which is death to hide, My true account, lest He, returning, chide ;- Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest : They also serve who only stand and wait." JOHN MILTON. ADY, that in the prime of earliest youth Wisely hast shunned the broad way and the green, And with those few art eminently seen Chosen thou hast; and they that overween, To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure Thou, when the Bridegroom with his feastful friends Passes to bliss at the mid-hour of night, Hast gained thy entrance, Virgin wise and pure. |