Heere saw he others that did keepe the sword Wounding or sparing with a watchfull hand, As some superiour person should commaund. LXXXV. WILLIAM LITHGOW. LINES, From "The Pilgrim's Farewell.” THIS worthlesse honour, that desert not reares, Is but as fruitlesse showes, which bloome, then perish : Where merite buildes not, that foundation teares. There's nought but trueth that can man's standing cherish : This great experience dayly now appeares, What one upholdes, another he downe casts, I smyle to see some bragging gentle-men, Would make their betters foote-stooles to their feet, And stryve to bee applaus'd with print and pen; And were hee but a farmer, if hee can But keepe an hound,—O there's a gentle-man! But, foolish thou, looke to the grave, and learne How man lies there deform'd, consum'd in dust; And in that mappe thy judgement may discearne How little thou in birth and blood shouldst trust. Such sightes are good,-they doe thy soule con cerne. Wer'st thou a kinglie sonne, and vertue want, Thou art more brute than beastes which desarts hant. And more, vaine worlde, I see thy great trans gression, Each day new murther, blood-shed, craft, and thift, Thy lovelesse law, and lawlesse proude oppression, Thy stiffeneckt crew their heads ov'r saincts they lift, And, misregarding God, fall in degression: The widdow mournes, the proude the poore oppresse, The rich contemne the silly fatherlesse: And rich men gape, and, not content, seeke more, O! is hee poore, then faine he would bee rich; And rich, what tormentes his great griede doth feele: And is hee gentle, hee strives moe hightes t' touch; Vilde dust and earth, believ'st thou in a shadow, Whose high-tun'd prime falles like a new-mowne medow? I grieve to see the world and worldling playing: The wretch, puft up, is swell'd with hellish griede; The worlde deceives him with a swift assaying; And as hee stands, hee cannot take good heede, But for small trash must yeelde eternal paying: And dead, another enjoyes what hee got, And spendes up all, whiles hee in grave doeth rot. LXXXVI. JOHN WEEVER. STANZAS, From "An Agnus Dei." Now Pontius Pilate on the iudgment-seate, CHARLES FITZGEFFREY. THE BLESSED BIRTH-DAY, CELEBRATED IN SOME SANCTIFIED MEDITATIONS ON THE ANGELS' ANTHEM. LUKE II. 14. Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will towards men. WHY should not we with joy resound and sing It is for us that they those joyes expresse; Glory to God on high, on earth be peace, And let good-will towards Christians never cease. |