It glows and glitters in my cloudy brest Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest, I see them walking in an Air of glory, Whose light doth trample on my days: My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, O holy hope! and high humility, High as the Heavens above! These are your walks, and you have shew'd them me Dear, beauteous death! the Jewel of the Just, Shining no where, but in the dark; What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust; Could man outlook that mark! He that hath found some fledg'd birds nest, may know At first sight, if the bird be flown; But what fair Well, or Grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown. And yet, as Angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul, when man doth sleep: So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted theams, And into glory peep. If a star were confin'd into a Tomb Her captive flames must needs burn there; But when the hand that lockt her up, gives room, She'l shine through all the sphære. O Father of eternal life, and all Created glories under thee! Resume thy spirit. from this world of thrall Into true liberty. Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill Or else remove me hence unto that hill, Where I shall need no glass. S Henry Vaughan. As time one day by me did pass He held, I chanc'd to look And spyed his curious book Many disordered lives I saw And foul records which thaw A fair, white page of thin And ev❜n, smooth lines, like the Suns rays, 30 40 10 O bright and happy Kalendar! All pearl'd with tears, and may Where through thick pangs, high agonies As some meek night-piece which day quails, So by one beamy line From thy bright lamp did shine, In the same page thy humble grave Set with green herbs, glad hopes and brave. Here slept my thoughts dear mark! which dust But dust (I did observe) By hiding doth preserve, As we for long and sure recruits, O calm and sacred bed where lies A beauty far more bright Then the noons cloudless light Sleep happy ashes! (blessed sleep!) While haplesse I still weep; Weep that I have out-liv'd My life, and unreliev'd Must (soul-lesse shadow!) so live on, Though life be dead, and my joys gone. Henry Vaughan. 20 30 40 The dwelling-place S. John, chap. I. ver. 38, 39. Hat happy, secret fountain, Fair shade, or mountain, Whose undiscover'd virgin glory My God, I mean my sinful heart. The Night. John 2. 3. part, Henry Vaughan. Hrough that pure Virgin-shrine, TH That sacred vail drawn o'r thy glorious noon That men might look and live as Glo-worms shine, And face the Moon: Wise Nicodemus saw such light As made him know his God by night. ΙΟ Most blest believer he! Who in that land of darkness and blinde eyes And what can never more be done, Did at mid-night speak with the Sun! O who will tell me, where He found thee at that dead and silent hour! Within whose sacred leafs did lie No mercy-seat of gold, No dead and dusty Cherub, nor carv'd stone, Where trees and herbs did watch and peep Dear night! this worlds defeat; The stop to busie fools; cares check and curb; Which none disturb! Christs progress, and his prayer time; The hours to which high Heaven doth chime. Gods silent, searching flight: When my Lords head is fill'd with dew, and all His locks are wet with the clear drops of night; His still, soft call; His knocking time; The souls dumb watch. 10 20 30 |