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Great is the calm, for everywhere
The wind is settling down:
The smoke goes upright in the air,
From every tower and town.

What pleasure, then, to walk and see,
Along a river clear,

The perfect form of every tree
Within the deep appear:

SIR JOHN DAVIES.

The bells and circles on the waves,
From leaping of the trout;

The salmon from their creels and caves
Come gliding in and out.

O sure it were a seemly thing,
While all is still and calm,
The praise of God to play and sing,
With trumpet and with shalm!

All laborers draw home at even,

And can to others say, "Thanks to the gracious God of heaven, Who sent this summer day."

SIR JOHN DAVIES.

[1570-1626.]

THE SOUL.

AGAIN, how can she but immortal be, When with the motions of both will and wit

She still aspireth to eternity,

And never rests till she attain to it?

Water in conduit-pipes can rise no higher
Than the well-head from whence it first
doth spring:
Then, since to eternal God she doth as-
pire,

She cannot be but an eternal thing.

"All moving things to other things do

move

11

And as the moisture which the thirsty earth

Sucks from the sea to fill her empty veins,

From out her womb at last doth take a birth,

And runs a lymph along the grassy plains:

above,

Till both their proper elements do touch.

Long doth she stay, as loth to leave the land

From whose soft side the first did issue make;

She tastes all places, turns to every hand, Her flowery banks unwilling to forsake.

Yet Nature so her streams doth lead and carry,

As that her course doth make no final stay,

Till she herself unto the Ocean marry, Within whose watery bosom first she lay.

Even so the soul, which in this earthly mould

The spirit of God doth secretly infuse, Because at first she doth the earth behold,

And only this material world she views.

At first her mother Earth she holdeth dear,

And doth embrace the world, and worldly things.

She flies close by the ground and hovers

here,

And mounts not up with her celestial wings:

Yet under heaven she cannot light on aught

That with her heavenly nature doth agree;

She cannot rest, she cannot fix her thought,

She cannot in this world contented be.

For who did ever yet, in honor, wealth, Or pleasure of the sense, contentment find?

Of the same kind, which shows their nature such";

So earth falls down, and fire doth mount Who ever ceased wish when he had

wealth?

Or having wisdom was not vexed in i mind?

Then as a bee, which among weeds doth | There is she crowned with garlands of

fall,

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But when in heaven she shall his essence see,

This is her sovereign good, and perfect bliss,

Her longings, wishings, hopes, all finished be,

content;

There doth she manna eat, and nectar drink :

That presence doth such high delights present,

Her joys are full, her motions rest in this.

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Of him she thinks she cannot think too much;

THE LESSONS OF NATURE.

This honey tasted still, is ever sweet; OF this fair volume which we World do The pleasure of her ravished thought is

name

such,

As almost here she with her bliss doth meet.

[1585-1649.]

If we the sheets and leaves could turn

with care,

Of him who it corrects, and did it frame,
We clear might read the art and wisdom

rare:

Find out his power which wildest powers doth tame,

His providence extending everywhere, His justice which proud rebels doth not spare,

In every page, no period of the same.

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