MUSAE GRAVIORES

230. A THANKSGIVING TO G.o.d, FOR HIS HOUSE

Lord, thou hast given me a cell, Wherein to dwell; A little house, whose humble roof Is weather proof; Under the spars of which I lie Both soft and dry; Where thou, my chamber for to ward, Hast set a guard Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep Me, while I sleep.

Low is my porch, as is my fate; Both void of state; And yet the threshold of my door Is worn by th' poor, Who thither come, and freely get Good words, or meat.

Like as my parlour, so my hall And kitchen's small; A little b.u.t.tery, and therein A little bin, Which keeps my little loaf of bread Unchipt, unflead; Some brittle sticks of thorn or briar Make me a fire, Close by whose living coal I sit, And glow like it.

Lord, I confess too, when I dine, The pulse is thine, And all those other bits that be There placed by thee; The worts, the purslain, and the mess Of water-cress, Which of thy kindness thou hast sent; And my content Makes those, and my beloved beet, To be more sweet.

'Tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth With guiltless mirth, And giv'st me wa.s.sail bowls to drink, Spiced to the brink.

Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand That soils my land, And giv'st me, for my bushel sown, Twice ten for one; Thou mak'st my teeming hen to lay Her egg each day; Besides, my healthful ewes to bear Me twins each year; The while the conduits of my kine Run cream, for wine: All these, and better, thou dost send Me, to this end,-- That I should render, for my part, A thankful heart; Which, fired with incense, I resign, As wholly thine; --But the acceptance, that must be, My Christ, by Thee.

231. MATINS, OR MORNING PRAYER

When with the virgin morning thou dost rise, Crossing thyself come thus to sacrifice; First wash thy heart in innocence; then bring Pure hands, pure habits, pure, pure every thing.

Next to the altar humbly kneel, and thence Give up thy soul in clouds of frankincense.

Thy golden censers fill'd with odours sweet Shall make thy actions with their ends to meet.

232. GOOD PRECEPTS, OR COUNSEL

In all thy need, be thou possest Still with a well prepared breast; Nor let the shackles make thee sad; Thou canst but have what others had.

And this for comfort thou must know, Times that are ill won't still be so: Clouds will not ever pour down rain; A sullen day will clear again.

First, peals of thunder we must hear; When lutes and harps shall stroke the ear.

233. PRAY AND PROSPER

First offer incense; then, thy field and meads Shall smile and smell the better by thy beads.

The spangling dew dredged o'er the gra.s.s shall be Turn'd all to mell and manna there for thee.

b.u.t.ter of amber, cream, and wine, and oil, Shall run as rivers all throughout thy soil.

Would'st thou to sincere silver turn thy mould?

--Pray once, twice pray; and turn thy ground to gold.

234. THE BELL-MAN

Along the dark and silent night, With my lantern and my light And the tinkling of my bell, Thus I walk, and this I tell: --Death and dreadfulness call on To the general session; To whose dismal bar, we there All accounts must come to clear: Scores of sins we've made here many; Wiped out few, G.o.d knows, if any.

Rise, ye debtors, then, and fall To make payment, while I call: Ponder this, when I am gone: --By the clock 'tis almost One.

235. UPON TIME

Time was upon The wing, to fly away; And I call'd on Him but awhile to stay; But he'd be gone, For aught that I could say.

He held out then A writing, as he went, And ask'd me, when False man would be content To pay again What G.o.d and Nature lent.

An hour-gla.s.s, In which were sands but few, As he did pa.s.s, He shew'd,--and told me too Mine end near was;-- And so away he flew.

236. MEN MIND NO STATE IN SICKNESS

That flow of gallants which approach To kiss thy hand from out the coach; That fleet of lackeys which do run Before thy swift postilion; Those strong-hoof'd mules, which we behold Rein'd in with purple, pearl, and gold, And shed with silver, prove to be The drawers of the axle-tree; Thy wife, thy children, and the state Of Persian looms and antique plate: --All these, and more, shall then afford No joy to thee, their sickly lord.

237. LIFE IS THE BODY'S LIGHT

Life is the body's light; which, once declining, Those crimson clouds i' th' cheeks and lips leave shining:- Those counter-changed tabbies in the air, The sun once set, all of one colour are: So, when death comes, fresh tinctures lose their place, And dismal darkness then doth s.m.u.tch the face.

238. TO THE LADY CREWE, UPON THE DEATH OF HER CHILD

Why, Madam, will ye longer weep, Whenas your baby's lull'd asleep?

And, pretty child, feels now no more Those pains it lately felt before.

All now is silent; groans are fled; Your child lies still, yet is not dead, But rather like a flower hid here, To spring again another year.

239. UPON A CHILD THAT DIED

Here she lies, a pretty bud, Lately made of flesh and blood; Who as soon fell fast asleep, As her little eyes did peep.

--Give her strewings, but not stir The earth, that lightly covers her.

240. UPON A CHILD

Here a pretty baby lies Sung asleep with lullabies; Pray be silent, and not stir Th' easy earth that covers her.