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CXXIII

SOUL AND BODY

GREAT Nature cloaths the Soul, which is but thin,
With fleshly garments, which the Fates do spin;
And when these garments are grown old and bare,
With sickness torn, Death takes them off with care,
Doth fold them up in peace and quiet rest,

And lays them safe within an earthly chest ;

Then scours them well, and makes them sweet and clean, Fit for the soul to wear those cloaths again.

MARGARET, DUCHESS OF NEWCASTLE

CXXIV

PURIFICATION

My God! If 'tis Thy great decree
That this must the last moment be
Wherein I breathe this are;

My heart obeys, joy'd to retreate
From the false favours of the great

And treachery of the faire.

When Thou shalt please this soule t' enthrone

Above impure corruption,

What should I grieve or feare

To think this breathlesse body must
Become a loathsome heape of dust
And ne'er again appeare?

For in the fire when ore is tryed,
And by that torment purified,

Doe we deplore the losse ?

And when Thou shalt my soule refine,
That it thereby may purer shine,

Shall I grieve for the drosse?

W. HABINGTON.

CXXV

IN BLISS

BRAVE spirits, whose advent'rous feet
Have to the mountain's top aspir'd,
Where fair desert and honour meet:

Here, from the toiling press retir'd,
Secure from all disturbing evil,
For ever in my temple revel.
With wreaths of stars circled about,

Gild all the spacious firmament,

And smiling on the panting rout
That labour in the steep ascent,
With your resistless influence guide
Of human change th' uncertain tide.

T. CAREW.

CXXVI

WELCOME, welcome, happy paire,
To these abodes, where spicy aire
Breathes perfumes, and every sense
Doth find his object's excellence :
Where's no heate, nor cold extreme,

No winter's ice, nor summer's scorching beame,
Where's no sun, yet never night,

Day always springing from eternal light;
All mortal sufferings laid aside,

Here in endless blisse abide.

CXXVII

T. NABBES.

AN EPITAPH

A VIRGIN blossom in her May
Of youth and virtues turn'd to clay;
Rich earth accomplish'd with those graces
That adorn Saints in heavenly places.
Let not Death boast his conquering power,
She'll rise a Star, that fell a Flower.

BOOK III