The
fleet astronomer can bore
And
thread the spheres with his quick-piercing mind:
He
views their stations, walks from door to door,
Surveys,
as if he had designed
To make
a purchase there; he sees their dances,
And knoweth long before
Both their
full-eyes aspècts, and secret glances.
The
nimble diver with his side
Cuts
through the working waves, that he may fetch
His
dearly-earnèd pearl, which God did hide
On
purpose from the venturous wretch;
That he
might save his life, and also hers
Who with excessive pride
Her own
destruction and his danger wears.
The
subtle chymic can divest
And
strip the creature naked, till he find
The
callow principles within their nest:
There
he imparts to them his mind,
Admitted
to their bed-chamber, before
They appear trim and dressed
To
ordinary suitors at the door.
What
hath not man sought out and found,
But his
dear God? who yet his glorious law
Embosoms
in us, mellowing the ground
With
showers and frosts, with love and awe,
So that
we need not say, “Where’s this command?”
Poor man, thou searchest round
To find out death, but missest life at hand.
No comments:
Post a Comment