His thoughts, triumphant, Heav'n alone employs, -So good, so blest, the illustrious HOUGH we find, Or like some victor in the Olympic games, Who, having run his course, the crown of glory claims." JENYNS. EXTRACT FROM A POEM ON THE SOUL, DEDICATED TO QUEEN ELIZABETH, By SIR JOHN DAVIS. And as the moisture, which the thirsty earth Long doth she stay, as loth to leave the land, She tastes all places, turns to ev'ry hand, Yet Nature so her streams doth lead and carry, Within whose wat'ry bosom first she lay. E'en so the Soul, which in this earthly mould At first her Mother-earth she holdeth dear, And doth embrace the world, and worldly things; Yet under heav'n she cannot light on aught, For who did ever yet, in honour, wealth, Or pleasure of the sense, contentment find? Then as a Bee which among weeds doth fall, She lights on that, and this, and tasteth all; But pleas'd with none, doth rise, and soar away. So when the Soul finds here no true content, Since then her heav'nly kind she doth display, She cannot be from hence, but from above. And yet this first true cause and last good end, As a King's daughter, being in person sought Yet she can love a foreign Emperor, Whom of great worth and pow'r she hears to be, If she be woo'd but by Ambassador, Or but his letters, or his picture see! For well she knows, that when she shall be brought Into the kingdom where her spouse doth reign, Her eyes shall see what she conceiv'd in thought, Himself, his state, his glory, and his train. So while the virgin-soul on earth doth stay, She woo'd and tempted is ten thousand ways, With these sometimes she doth her time beguile, And in the sweetest finds a tediousness. But if upon the world's Almighty King She once doth fix her humble loving thought, Who by his picture drawn in ev'ry thing, And sacred messages her love hath sought; Of him she thinks she cannot think too much; As almost here she with her bliss doth meet. But when in heav'n she shall his essence see, There is she crown'd with garlands of content, As never tongue could speak, nor heart could think. FINIS. W. Molineux, Printer, Bream's Buildings, Chancery Lane. |