We travel sea and soil, we pry, we prowl,
We progress, and we prog from pole to pole;
We spend our mid-day sweat, our midnight oil,
We tire the night in thought, the day in toil :
We make art servile, and the trade gentile
(Yet both corrupted with ingenious guile),
To compass earth, and, with her empty store,
To fill our arms, and grasp one handful more;
Thus seeking rest our labours never cease,
But, as our years, our hot desires increase;
Thus we, poor little worlds! with blood and sweat,
In vain attempt to comprehend the great :
Thus, in our gain, become we gainful losers;
And what's inclos'd, incloses the inclosers.
Now, reader, close thy book, and then advise ;
Be wisely worldly, be not worldly wise :

Let not thy nobler thoughts be always raking

The world's base dunghill; vermin's took by taking:
Take heed thou trust not the deceitful lap
Of wanton Delilah; the world's a trap.

HUGO

:

HUGO de Anima.

Tell me, where be those now, that so lately loved and hugged the world? Nothing remaineth of them but dust and worms: observe what those men are; what those men were they were like thee; they did eat, drink, laugh, and led merry days; and in a moment slipt into hell. Here, their flesh is food for worms; there their souls are fuel for fire, till they shall be rejoined in an unhappy fellowship, and cast into eternal torments; where they that were once companions in sin, shall be hereafter partners in punishment.

EPIG. 2.

Gripe, Cupid, and gripe still, until that wind,
That's pent before, find secret vent behind :
And when th'ast done, hark here, I tell thee what,
Before I'll trust thy armful, I'll trust that.

Jon

IJI.

JOB Xviii. 8.

He is cast into a net by his own feet, and walketh upon

WH

a snare.

1.

HAT! nets and quiver too? what need there all These sly devices to betray poor men? Die they not fast enough, when thousands fall Before thy dart? what need these engines, then? Attend they not, and answer to thy call,

Like nightly coveys, where thou list and when ?

What needs a stratagem when strength can sway? Or what needs strength compel, where none gainsay? Or what needs stratagem or strength, where hearts obey?

2.

Husband thy sleights: it is but vain to waste
Honey on those that will be catch'd with gall;
Thou canst not, ah! though canst not bid so fast
As men obey thou art more slow to call

:

Than they to come; thou canst not make such haste To strike, as they, being struck, make haste to fall. Go save thy nets for that rebellious heart

That scorns thy pow'r, and has obtain❜d the art T'avoid thy flying shaft, to quench thy firy dart.

3.

Lost mortal! how is thy destruction sure,
Between two bawds, and both without remorse!
The one's a line, the other is a lure;

This to intice thy soul; that to enforce :
Way-laid by both, how can't thou stand secure?
That draws; this wooes thee to th' eternal curse.

O charm

O charming tyrant! how thou hast befool'd

And 'slav'd poor man, that would not, if he could, Avoid thy line, thy lure; nay, could not, if he would!

4.

Alas! thy sweet perfidious voice betrays.

His wanton ears with thy Syrenian baits;
Thou wrapp'st thy eyes in mists, then boldly lays
Thy Lethal gins before their crystal gates;
Thou lock'st up ev'ry sense with thy false keys,
All willing pris'ners to thy close deceits :

His ear most nimble, where it deaf should be;
His eye most blind, where most it ought to see;
And when his heart's most bound, then thinks himself
[most free.

5.

Thou grand impostor! how hast thou obtain'd
The wardship of the world! Are all men turn'd
Ideots and lunatics? Are all retain'd

Beneath thy servile bands? Is none return'd

To his forgotten self? Has none regain'd

His senses? Are their senses all adjourn'd

What, none dismiss'd thy court? Will no plump
Bribe thy false fists to make a glad decree,

[fee

T'unfool whom thou hast fool'd, and set thy pris'ners free?

S. BERN.

S. BERN. in Ser.

In this world is much treachery, little truth; here, all things are traps; here, every thing is beset with snares; here souls are endangered, bodies are afflicted; here, all things are vanity and vexation of spirit.

EPIG. 3.

Nay, Cupid, pitch thy trammel where thou please
Thou canst not fail to take such fish as these ;
Thy thriving sport will ne'er be spent: no need
To fear, when ev'ry cork's a world, thou'lt speed.

HOSEA