THE COLLAR.

I STRUCK the board, and cried, "No more !
I will abroad.

What! shall I ever sigh and pine?

My lines and life are free-free as the road,

Loose as the wind, as large as store;

Shall I be still in suit?

Have I no harvest, but a thorn

To let my blood; and not restore

What I have lost with cordial fruit?

Sure there was wine

Before my sighs did dry it; there was corn
Before my tears did drown it;

Is the year only lost to me?

Have I no bays to crown it?

No flowers, no garlands gay? all blasted?
All wasted?

Not so, my heart! but there is fruit
And thou hast hands.

Recover all thy sigh-flown age

On double pleasures: leave thy cold dispute
Of what is fit and not: forsake thy cage,
Thy rope of sands,

Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee
Good cable to enforce and draw,

And be thy law,

While thou didst wink and wouldst not see:
Away! take heed!

I will abroad,

Call in thy death's head there: tie up thy fears.
He that forbears

To suit and serve his need,

Deserves his load."

But as I raved, and grew more fierce and wild

At every word,

Methought I heard one calling, "Child!"

And I replied, "My Lord!"

!

DIVINITY.

As men, for fear the stars should sleep and nod,
And trip at night, have spheres supplied;

As if a star were duller than a clod,

Which knows his way without a guide:

Just so the other heaven they also serve
Divinity's transcendant sky:

Which with the edge of wit they cut and carve,
Reason triumphs, and Faith lies by.

Could not that Wisdom which first broached the wine
Have thickened it with definitions?

And jagged His seamless coat, had that been fine,
With curious questions and divisions?

But all the doctrine which He taught and gave
Was clear as heaven, from whence it came;
At least those beams of truth which only save,
Surpass in brightness any flame.

"Love God and love your neighbour;" "Watch and pray;"
"Do as you would be done unto :"
Oh! dark instructions, e'en as dark as day!
Who can these gordian knots undo?

But He doth bid us take his blood for wine;
Bid what He please, yet I am sure,
To take and taste what He doth there design
Is all that saves, and not obscure.

Then burn thy epicycles, foolish man,

Break all thy spheres and save thy head: Faith needs no staff of flesh, but stoutly can To heaven alone both go and lead,

VIRTUE.

SWEET day! so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky,
The dew shall weep thy fall to night;
For thou must die.

Sweet rose! whose hue, angry and brave,

Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,

Thy root is ever in the grave;

And thou must die.

Sweet spring! full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,-
My music shows you have your closes,

And all must die.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul

Like seasoned timber never gives;

But though the whole world turn to a coal,

Then chiefly lives.

1

THE QUIP.

THE merry world did on a day

With his train-bands and mates agree

To meet together where I lay,

And all in sport to jeer at me.

First Beauty crept into a rose,

Which when I plucked not, "Sir," said she,

"Tell me, I pray, whose hands are those:"
But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me.

Then Money came: and, chinking still,

"What tune is this, poor man?" said he ;

"I heard in music you had skill:"

But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me.

Then came brave Glory puffing by,

In silks that whistled "who but he?"
He scarce allowed me half an eye:

But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me.

Then came quick Wit and Conversation,
And he would needs a comfort be;
And, to be short, make an oration:

But Thou shalt answer, Lord, for me.

Yet when the hour of thy design

To answer these fine things shall come,

Speak not at large; say, I am thine;

And then they have their answer home.

MARY MAGDALENE.

WHEN blessed Mary wiped her Saviour's feet,
(Whose precepts she had trampled on before,)
And wore them for a jewel on her head;

Showing his steps should be the street

Wherein she henceforth evermore,

With pensive humbleness, would live and tread :

She being stained herself, why did she strive

To make Him clean who could not be defiled?

Why kept she not her tears for her own faults,

And not his feet? Though we could dive

In tears like seas, our sins are piled

Deeper than they, in words, and works, and thoughts.

Dear soul, she knew who did vouchsafe and deign

To bear her filth; and that her sins did dash

E'en God Himself; wherefore she was not loth,

As she had brought wherewith to stain,

So to bring in wherewith to wash;

And yet in washing one she washeth both.

1

THE BRITISH CHURCH.

I JOY, dear Mother, when I view
Thy perfect lineaments and true,

Both sweet and bright:

Beauty in thee takes up her place,

And dates her letters from thy face,

When she doth write.

A fine aspect in fit array,

Neither too mean, not yet too gay,

Shows who is best.

Outlandish looks may not compare,

For all they either painted are,

Or else undressed.

She on the hills which wantonly

Allureth all in hope to be

By her preferred,

Hath kissed so long her painted shrines,

That e'en her face by kissing shines,

For her reward:

She in the valley 2 is so shy

Of dressing, that her hair doth lie

About her ears;

While she avoids her neighbour's pride,

She wholly goes on the other side,

And nothing wears.

But, dearest Mother, (what those miss,)

The mean, thy praise and glory is,

And long may be.

Blessed be God, whose love it was,

To double-moat thee with his grace,
And none but thee.

1 The church of Rome.

2 The church of Geneva.