Lo, as a star he seems,
Or torch with nigh-quench'd beams;
Keeping himself still small
Before the Lord of All.
How well might'st thou, O Sun,
Submit to be outshone,
And, as a morning-star,
Herald One grander far! G.
VIII.
Quinque panes ad quinque hominum millia. Joan. vi. 9.
En mensae faciles, redivivaque vulnera coenae,
Quaeque indefessa provocat ora dape!
Aucta Ceres stupet arcana se crescere messe.
Denique quid restat? Pascitur ipse cibus.
On the miracle of multiplyed loaves.
See here an easie feast that knows no wound,
That under Hunger's teeth will needs be found;
A subtle harvest of unbounded bread:
What would ye more? Here Food itselfe is fed. Cr.
ANOTHER VERSION.
Eas'ly-furnish'd table!
And feast increas'd by eating:
Still the mouth entreating.
The bread itself, unable
To tell whence it flows,
Finds it most surely grows.