So rich is man, that (all his debts being paid)
His wealth's the winding-sheet wherein he 's laid;
So
young is man, that, broke with care and sorrow,
He's old enough to-day, to die to-morrow:

Why bragg'st thou then, thou worm of five foot long? Thou 'rt neither fair, nor strong, nor wise, nor rich, nor young.

From Job Militant.

[In the same.]

The Digestion of the whole History.

1. In Prosperity.

Thou, whose lank fortunes Heaven hath swell'd with

store,

Make not thyself, by over-wishing, poor:

Husband that good, which else abuse makes bad,

Abstracting where thy base desire would add:

Lines flowing from Sophoclean quill
Deserve no plaudit, being acted ill.

2. In Adversity.

Hath Heaven withdrawn the talent he hath given thee?

Hath envious death of all thy sons bereaven thee?

Have foul diseases foil'd thee on the floor?

He earns no sweet, that never tasted sour:
Thou art a scholar: if thy tutor do

Pose thee too hard, he will instruct thee too.

3. In Temptation.

Art thou oppos'd to thy unequal foe?
March bravely on, thy General bids thee go;
Thou art Heaven's champion, to maintain his right;
Who calls thee forth will give thee strength to fight.
God seeks by conquest thy renown; for He
Will win enough, fight thou, or faint, or flee.

4. In Slander.

If winter fortunes nip thy summer friends,
And tip their tongues with censure that offends
Thy tender fame, despair not, but be wise;
Know, Heaven selecteth whom the world denies :

Thou hast a milk-white Thisbe that is with thee,
Will take thy part when all the world's against thee.

5. In Re-advancement.

Art thou advanc'd to thy supreme desire ?
Be still the same; fear lower, aim no higher :
Man's play hath many scenes, but in the last,
Heaven knits up all; to sweeten all that's past.
Affliction is a rod to scourge us home,
A painful earnest of a heaven to come *.

"To the Reader."

[Prefixed to his History of Sampson,' p. 253. In the same

"The tyranny of my affairs was never yet so imperious, but I could steal some hours to my private meditations; the fruits of which stolen time, I here present thee with, in

From Sion's Elegies.

[In the same.]

Eleg. xvIII.

So the quick-scented beagles, in a view,

O'er hill and dale the fleeting chase pursue,
As swift-foot death and ruin follow me,
That flees afraid, yet knows not where to flee:

'The History of Sampson.' Wherein, if thy extreme severity check at any thing which thou conceivest may not stand with the majesty of this sacred subject, know, that my intention was not to offend my brother. The wisest of kings, inspired by the King of Wisdom, thought it no detraction from the gravity of his holy Proverbs, to describe a harlot like a harlot; her whoreish attire; her immodest gesture; her bold countenance; her flattering tongue; her lascivious embraces; her unchaste kisses; her impudent invitations: if my descriptions in the like kind offend, I make no question but the validity of my warrant will give a reasonable satisfaction. He that lifts not his feet high enough, may easily stumble: but on the contrary, if any be, whose worse than sacrilegious minds shall profane our harmless intentions with wanton conceits, to such I heartily wish a 'Procul ite.'' Let none such look farther than this Epistle at their own perils; if they do, let them put off their shoes, for this is HOLY GROUND.' Foul hands will muddle the clearest waters, and base minds will corrupt the purest text. If any offence be taken, it is by way of stealth, for there is none willingly given. I write to Bees, and not to

Flee to the fields? there with the sword I meet;
And like a watch, death stands in every street ;
No cover hides from death; no shades, no cells
So dark, wherein not death and horror dwells;
Our days are number'd, and our numbers done,
The empty hour-glass of our glory 's run;
Our sins are summ'd, and so extreme 's the score,
That Heaven could not do less, nor hell do more.

Funeral Elegies.

[In the same.]

Eleg. VIII.

Had virtue, learning, the diviner arts,
Wit, judgment, wisdom (or what other parts
That make perfection, and return the mind
As great as earth can suffer), been confin'd
To earth-had they the patent to abide

Secure from change, our AILMER * ne'er had died.

Spiders; they will suck pleasing honey from such flowers; those may burst with their own poison; but you, whose well-seasoned hearts are not distempered with either of these extremities, but have the better relish of a sacred understanding, draw near and read."

* "He was one, whose life and death made as full and perfect a story of worth and goodness, as earth would suffer; and whose pregnant virtues deserve as faithful a register, as earth can keep." QUARLES to his "Readers," prefixed to the above Funeral Elegies,

Fond Earth forbear, and let thy childish eyes

Ne'er weep for him thou ne'er knew'st how to prize;
Shed not a tear, blind Earth, for it appears
Thou never lov'dst our Ailmer, by thy tears;
Or if thy floods must needs o'erflow their brim,
Lament, lament thy blindness, and not him.

Eleg. XIII.

No, no, he is not dead; the mouth of fame,
Honour's shrill herald, would preserve his name,
And make it live, in spight of death and dust,
Were there no other Heaven, no other trust.
He is not dead; the sacred Nine deny
The soul that merits fame should ever die.

He lives;
and when the latest breath of fame
Shall want her trump to glorify a name,
He shall survive, and these self-closed eyes
That now lie slumb'ring in the dust, shall rise,
And, fill'd with endless glory, shall enjoy

The

perfect vision of eternal joy *.

**

This tautology appears to have escaped our poet. The

above

“Şion and Funeral Elegies" are composed in such a that each begins with the letter of the alphabet in Succession as far as Y. There are some beautiful passages "Sion Sonnets" composed in eight-line stanzas.

manner,

in the

EDITOR.