All may of thee partake:
Nothing can be so mean,
Which with his tincture—for thy sake— its.
Will not grow bright and clean.
A servant with this clause
Makes drudgery divine:
Who sweeps a room as for thy laws,
Makes that and the action fine.
This is the famous stone
That turneth all to gold;
For that which God doth touch and own
Cannot for less be told.
With a conscience tender as a child's, almost diseased in its tenderness, and a heart loving as a woman's, his intellect is none the less powerful. Its movements are as the sword-play of an alert, poised, well-knit, strong-wristed fencer with the rapier, in which the skill impresses one more than the force, while without the force the skill would be valueless, even hurtful, to its possessor. There is a graceful humour with it occasionally, even in his most serious poems adding much to their charm. To illustrate all this, take the following, the title of which means The Retort.
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?"[98]
But thou shall 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 shall 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 shall 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.