The So clear their colour and divine, very shade they cast did other lights out-shine, "Taste not, "said God; "'t is mine and angels' meat; "A certain death doth sit, "Like an ill worm, i' th' core of it. "Ye cannot know and live, nor live or know and eat." Thus spoke God, yet man did go Ignorantly on to know; Grew so more blind, and she Who tempted him to this, grew yet more blind than he. The only science man by this did get, Was but to know he nothing knew: His ignorant poor estate, and was asham'd of it. And rhetorick, and fallacies, And seeks by useless pride, With slight and withering leaves that nakedness to hide, "Henceforth," said God, "the wretched sons of earth "Shall sweat for food in vain, "That will not long sustain ; "And bring with labour forth each fond abortive birth. "That serpent too, their pride, “Which aims at things deny'd; "That learn'd and eloquent lust; "Instead of mounting high, shall creep upon the dust." REASON, THE USE OF IT IN DIVINE MATTERS. SOME blind themselves, 'cause possibly they may Be led by others a right way; They build on sands, which if unmov'd they find, 'Tis but because there was no wind. Less hard 't is, not to err ourselves, than know When we trust men concerning God, we then Visions and inspirations some expect Like senseless chemists their own wealth destroy, So stars appear to drop to us from sky, And gild the passage as they fly; But when they fall, and meet th' opposing ground, What but a sordid slime is found? Sometimes their fancies they 'bove reason set, So Endor's wretched sorceress, although She Saul through his disguise did know, Yet, when the devil comes up disguis'd, she cries, "Behold! the Gods arise." In vain, alas! these outward hopes are try'd; Reason, which (God be prais'd!) still walks, for all And, since itself the boundless Godhead join'd It plainly shows that mysteries divine The holy book, like the eighth sphere, does shine So numberless the stars, that to the eye Yet Reason must assist too; for, in seas Our course by stars above we cannot know, Though Reason cannot through Faith's mysteries see, It sees that there and such they be; Leads to heaven's door, and there does humbly keep, And there through chinks and key-holes peep: Though it, like Moses, by a sad command, Must not come into th' Holy Land, Yet thither it infallibly does guide, And from afar 't is all descry'd. ON THE DEATH OF MR. CRASHAW. POET and Saint! to thee alone are given The two most sacred names of Earth and Heaven; Like Moses thou (though spells and charms with stand) Hast brought them nobly home back to their holy land. Ah wretched we, poets of earth! but thou And joy in an applause so great as thine. Thou need'st not make new songs, but say the old ; Find stars, and tie our fates there in a face, Thy spotless Muse, like Mary, did contain And for a sacred mistress scorn'd to take, to make. It (in a kind) her miracle did do; A fruitful mother was, and virgin too. How well (blest swan!) did Fate contrive thy And made thee render up thy tuneful breath Pardon, my mother-church! if I consent When join'd with so much piety as his. *Mr. Crashaw died of a fever at Loretto, being newly chosen canon of that church. |