Emblemes by Francis Quarles.

PSALM 55. 6.

O that I had the wings of a Dove, for then I would flie away and be at rest.

1

ANd am I sworn a dunghill slave for ever To earths base drudg'ry? shall I never find A night of rest? shall my indentures never Be cancell'd? did injurious Nature bind My soul earths prentice, with no clause to leave her? No day of freedome? must I ever grind? O that I had the pinions of a Dove, That I might quit my bands and sore above, And poure my just complaints before the great Jehove!

2

How happy are the Doves, that have the pow'r, When ere they please, to spread their ayry wings! Or cloud-dividing Eagles, that can towre Above the sent of these inferiour things! How happy is the Lark, that ev'ry howre Leaves earth, and then for joy mounts up and sings! Had my dull soul but wings as well as they, How I would spring from earth and clip away, As wise Astrea did, and scorn this ball of clay!

3

O how my soul would spurn this ball of clay, And loath the dainties of earths painfull pleasure! O how I'de laugh to see men night and day Turmoyl, to gain that trash they call their treasure! O how I'de smile to see what plots they lay To catch a blast, or own a smile from Cesar! Had I the pineons of a mounting Dove, How I would sore and sing, and hate the love Of transitory toyes, and feed on joyes above!

4

There should I find that everlasting pleasure, Which change removes not, & which chance prevents not; There should I find that everlasting treasure, Which force deprives not, fortune dis-augments not; There should I sind that everlasting Cesar, Whose hand recalls not, and whose heart repents not; Had I the pineons of a clipping Dove, How I would climb the skies, and hate the love Of transitory toyes, and joy in things above!

5

No rank-mouth'd slander there shall give offence, Or blast our blooming names, as here they do; No liver-scalding lust shall there incense Our boyling veins, There is no Cupids bow: Lord, give my soul the milk-white innocence Of Doves, and I shall have their pineons too: Had I the pineons of a sprightly Dove, How I would quit this earth, and sore above And Heav'ns blest kingdome find, with Heav'ns blest King Jehove.

S. AUGUST. in Psal. 128.

What wings should I desire but the two precepts of love, on which the Law and the Prophets depend! O if I could obtain these wings I could fly from thy sace to thy face, from the sace of thy Justice to the face of thy Mercy: Let us find those wings by love which we have lost by lust.

S. AUGUST. in Psal. 76.

Let us cast off whatsoever hindereth, entangleth, or bur∣deneth our flight untill we attain that which satisfieth; beyond which nothing is; beneath which, all things are; of which, all things are.

EPIG. 13.

Tell me, my wishing soul, didst ever trie How fast the wings of red-crost faith can slie? Why begg'st thou then the pineons of a Dove? Faiths wings are swifter, but the swiftest love.