ISIDOR.

Why dost thou wonder, Oman, at the height of the stars, or the depth of the sea; enter into thine own soul, and wonder there.

Thy soul by creation, is infused; by infusion, created.

'EPIG. 2.

What art thou now the better by this flame?
Thou know'st not how, nor when, nor whence it came
Poor kind of happiness! that can return
No more account but this, to say, I burn.

PSALM ciii. 16.

The wind passeth over it, and it is gone.

N°

1.

sooner is this lighted taper set
Upon the transitory stage
Of eye-bedark'ning night,

But it is strait subjected to the threat
Of envious winds, whose wasteful rage
Disturbs her peaceful light,

[less bright. And makes her substance waste, and makes her flames

2.

No sooner are we born, no sooner come

To take possession of this vast,

This soul-afflicting earth,..

But danger meets us at the

And sorrow with her full-mouth'd blast,

Salutes our painful birth,

To put out all our joys, and puff out all our mirth.

3.

Nor infant innocence, nor childish tears
Nor youthful wit, nor manly pow'r,
Nor politic old age,

Nor virgin's pleading, nor the widow's pray'rs,
Nor lowly cell, nor lofty tow'r,

Nor prince, nor peer, nor page,

Can 'scape this common blast, or curb her stormy rage,

Scape; i. e. escape or avoid.

Our

4.

Our life is but a pilgrimage of blasts,
And ev'ry blast brings forth a fear;
And ev'ry fear a death;

The more it lengthens, ah! the more it wastes :*
Were, were we to continue here

The days of long-liv'd Seth,

Our sprrows would renew, as we renew our breath.

5.

Toss'd to and fro, our frighted thoughts are driv'n
With ev'ry puff, with ev'ry tide

Of life-consuming care;

Our peaceful flame, that would point up to heav'n,
Is still disturb'd, and turn'd aside

And ev'ry blast of air

;

Commits such waste in man, as man cannot repair.

6.

W'are all born debtors, and we firmly stand
Oblig'd for our first parents' debt,

Besides our interest;

Alas! we have no harmless counterbond :
And we are ev'ry hour beset

With threat'nings of arrest,

And, till we pay the debt, we can expect no rest.

7.

What may this sortow-shaken life present,

To the false relish of our taste,

That's worth the name of sweet?

Her minute's pleasure's choak'd with discontent,
Her glory soil'd with ev'ry blast

How many dangers meet

Poor man between the biggint and the winding-sheet!

* Harmless ; i. e. indemnifying.

dress.

t Biggin; i. e. the infant's first

S. AUGUST.

In the world, not to be grieved, not to be afflicted, not to be in danger, is impossible.

Ibidem.

Behold, the world is full of trouble, yet beloved: what if it were a pleasing world? how wouldst thou delight in her calms, that canst so well endure her storms?

EPIG. 3.

Art thou consum'd with soul-afflicting crosses ?
Disturb'd with grief? annoy'd with worldly losses?
Hold up thy head: the taper, lifted high,
Will brook the wind; when lower tapers die.

MAT.

MATTHEW ix. 12.

The whole need not the physician.

1.

LWAYS pruning, always cropping?
Is her brightness still obscur'd?

Ever dressing, ever topping?
Always curing, never cur'd?

Too much snuffing makes a waste
When the spirits spend too fast,
They will shrink at ev'ry blast.

2.

You that always are bestowing
Costly pains in life repairing,
Are but always overthrowing
Nature's work by over-caring:

Nature, meeting with her foe,
In a work she hath to do,
Takes a pride to overthrow.

3.

Nature knows her own perfection,
And her pride disdains a tutor ;
Cannot stoop to art's correction,
And she scorns a co-adjutor.

Saucy art should not appear,
Till she whisper in her ear:
Hagar flees, if Sarah bear.

4.

Nature worketh for the better,
If not hinder'd that she cannot ;
Art stands by as her abetter,
Ending nothing she began not;

If distemper chance to seize
(Nature foil'd with the disease),
Art may help her if she please.

Bat