Poems written by Henry Lord Arundel of Warder and Count of the Sacred Roman Cmpire [sic].

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Title: Poems written by Henry Lord Arundel of Warder and Count of the Sacred Roman Cmpire [sic].
Author: Arundell of Wardour, Henry Arundell, Baron, 1606?-1694.
Publication: London :: [s.n.],; 1679.
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Link to this Item: http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A25961.0001.001
Cite this Item: "Poems written by Henry Lord Arundel of Warder and Count of the Sacred Roman Cmpire [sic]." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A25961.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 16, 2024.

Pages

1. A Valediction to the WORLD. (Book 1)
HEnce all you Visions of the Worlds delight,
You treach'rous Dreams of our deluded sence
Passion too long hath seiz'd on Reasons Right,
And play'd the Tyrant in her own defence:
Her fluttring Fancies hurry'd me about,
To seek content which I could ne're find out.
If any pleasure did slide o're my sence
It left a mark of shame when it went thence.
And when possest, it relished no more;
And I remain'd as Thirsty as before:
Those pleasant Charms that did my heart seduce
Seem'd great pursu'd, but less'ned in the use;
And that false flame that kindled my desire
E're I could cast, the pleasure did expire.
But Reason now shall repossess her Throne
And Grace restore what nature had o'rethrown,
My better Genius prompts me to declare
Against those follie's, and to side with her:
She tells me 'tis high time to stemm that Tide
Whose Torrent doth me from my self divide.
Those brutal Passions do un-man our mind,
And rule, where Virtue had them slaves design'd
Such usurpation shall prevail no more,
I will to Reason her just Rights restore:
And make my Rebel heart that duty pay
To her, which on my sence was thrown away.
But this (dear Lord) must be thy act not mine,
Thy Grace must finish what I but designe
It is thy pow'r alone that first doth move,
Then gives us strength to execute and love.
For Nature hath by custome so prevail'd,
And such dominion on our sence intail'd,
That we can never hope but by thy hand
To free our Captive Souls from her Command▪
That fatal liberty which for our good
Thou gav'st us, was ill us'd, worse understood.
Man made by reason, not like Beasts, to obey
Losing that reason, grows more beasts then they▪
And sure we lose it when we do dispence
With our known duty, to delight the sence.
Since then thy bounty doth my heart Inspire,
Make me to do, as well as to desire:
Set so my wavering heart from passions free
That it may ne're love any thing but thee.
By thy sweet force my Stubborn will Incline
To quit my Conduct, and to follow thine:
So shall my Soul thy double purchase prove
Bought by thy Bloud, and conquer'd by thy love.