THE DAWNING.
Ah! what time wilt thou come? when shall that cry,
'The Bridegroom's coming!' fill the skyl?
Shall it in the evening run
When our words and works are done?
Or will thy all-surprising light
Break at midnight,
When either sleep or some dark pleasure
Possesseth mad man without measure?
Or shall these early, fragrant hours
Unlock thy bowers,
And with their blush of light descry
Thy locks crowned with eternity?
Indeed, it is the only time
That with thy glory doth best chime;
All now are stirring, every field
Full hymns doth yield;
The whole creation shakes off night,
And for thy shadow looks the light;
Stars now vanish without number,
Sleepy planets set and slumber,
The pursy clouds disband and scatter,
All expect some sudden matter;
Not one beam triumphs, but from far
That morning-star.
Oh, at what time soever thou,
Unknown to us, the heavens wilt bow,
And, with thy angels in the van,
Descend to judge poor careless man,
Grant I may not like puddle lie
In a corrupt security,
Where, if a traveller water crave,
He finds it dead, and in a grave.
But as this restless, vocal spring
All day and night doth run and sing,
And though here born, yet is acquainted
Elsewhere, and flowing keeps untainted;
So let me all my busy age
In thy free services engage;
And though, while here, of force I must
Have commerce sometimes with poor dust,
And in my flesh, though vile and low,
As this doth in her channel flow,
Yet let my course, my aim, my love,
And chief acquaintance be above;
So when that day and hour shall come
In which thyself will be the Sun,
Thou'lt find me dressed and on my way,
Watching the break of thy great day.
THE TEMPEST.
1 How is man parcelled out! how every hour
Shows him himself, or something he should see!
This late, long heat may his instruction be;
And tempests have more in them than a shower.
When nature on her bosom saw
Her infants die,
And all her flowers withered to straw,
Her breasts grown dry;
She made the earth, their nurse and tomb,
Sigh to the sky,
Till to those sighs, fetched from her womb,
Rain did reply;
So in the midst of all her fears
And faint requests,
Her earnest sighs procured her tears
And filled her breasts.
2 Oh that man could do so! that he would hear
The world read to him! all the vast expense
In the creation shed and slaved to sense,
Makes up but lectures for his eye and ear.
3 Sure mighty Love, foreseeing the descent
Of this poor creature, by a gracious art
Hid in these low things snares to gain his heart,
And laid surprises in each element.
4 All things here show him heaven; waters that fall
Chide and fly up; mists of corruptest foam
Quit their first beds and mount; trees, herbs, flowers, all
Strive upwards still, and point him the way home.
5 How do they cast off grossness? only earth
And man, like Issachar, in loads delight,
Water's refined to motion, air to light,
Fire to all three,[1] but man hath no such mirth.