Neither his bloudy passions mind, Nor one day blesse his birth? THE CHECK. PEACE, peace! I blush to hear thee; when thou A dusty story, [art A speechlesse heap, and in the midst my heart, In the same livery drest, Lyes tame as all the rest; When six years thence digg'd up, some youthfull eie Seeks there for symmetry, ་་་ But, finding none, shall leave thee to the wind, Sleeps not, but, shaking off sloth and neglects, Paying the day its debts; That, for repose and darkness bound, he might The Puritans abolished the celebration of Christmas. So should we too. All things teach us to die, And mind it not; play not away III. View thy forerunners. Creatures, giv'n to be Take their leave, and die; birds, beasts, each tree, Have one large language, Death! O then play not! but strive to Him who can Turning their mists to beams, their damps to day; As to make clay A spirit, and true glory dwell In dust and stones. IV. Heark, how he doth invite thee! with what voice He begs and calls! O that in these thy days Shall not the crys of bloud, Of God's own bloud, awake thee? He bids beware Of drunknes, surfeits, care; But thou sleep'st on: where's now thy protestation, Thy lines, thy love? Away! Redeem the day; The day that gives no observation DISORDER AND FRAILTY. I. WHEN first thou did'st, even from the grave And womb of darkness, becken out Thou got'st my heart; and though here tost Breaking the link "Twixt thee and me; and oftimes creep Into the old silence and dead sleep, Quitting thy way All the long day; Yet sure, my God! I love thee most. II. I threaten heaven, and from my cell And stretch to thee, ayming at all Thy stars and spangled hall, My yielding leaves; sometimes a showr Beats them quite off; and, in an hour, Not one poor shoot, But the bare root, Hid under ground, survives the fall. Alas, frail weed! III. Thus like some sleeping exhalation, Which, wak'd by heat and beams, makes up And soars and shines, but, ere we sup, Cool'd by the damps of night, descends, Pine and retire; And, after all my hight of flames, On my first bed, Until thy sun again ascends. IV. O, yes! but give wings to my fire; Up where thou art, amongst thy tire Let not perverse And foolish thoughts adde to my bill Of forward sins, and kill That seed which thou In me didst sow; But dresse, and water with thy grace, Who died to stake His life for mine, tune to thy will My heart, my verse. Hosea vi. 4. 0 Ephraim, what shall I do unto thee? O Judah, how shall I intreat thee? for thy goodness is as a morning cloud, and as the early dew it goeth away. IDLE VERSE. Go, go, queint follies, sugred sin, I will no longer cobwebs spin; For since amidst my youth and night Blind, desp'rate fits, that study how |