The Soul compared to a Riuer.
And as the moysture, which the thirstie earth
Suckes from the sea, to fill her emptie veines,
From out her wombe at last doth take a birth,
And runs a Nymph[144] along the grassie plaines:
Long doth shee stay, as loth to leaue the land,
From whose soft side she first did issue make;
Shee tastes all places, turnes to euery hand,
Her flowry bankes vnwilling to forsake:
Yet Nature so her streames doth lead and carry,
As that her course doth make no finall stay,
Till she her selfe vnto the Ocean marry,
Within whose watry bosome first she lay:
Euen so the Soule which in this earthly mold
The Spirit of God doth secretly infuse;
Because at first she doth the earth behold,
And onely this materiall world she viewes:
At first her mother-earth she holdeth deare,
And doth embrace the world and worldly things:
She flies close by the ground, and houers here,
And mounts not vp with her celestiall wings.
Yet vnder heauen she cannot light on ought
That with her heauenly nature doth agree;
She cannot rest, she cannot fix her thought,
She cannot in this world contented bee:
For who did euer yet, in honour, wealth,
Or pleasure of the sense, contentment find?
Who euer ceasd to wish, when he had health?
Or hauing wisedome was not vext in mind?
Then as a bee which among weeds doth fall,
Which seeme sweet flowers, with lustre fresh and gay;
She lights on that, and this, and tasteth all,
But pleasd with none, doth rise, and soare away;
So, when the Soule finds here no true content,
And, like Noah's doue, can no sure footing take;
She doth returne from whence she first was sent,
And flies to Him that first her wings did make.