Prison-pietie, or, Meditations divine and moral digested into poetical heads, on mixt and various subjects : whereunto is added a panegyrick to the right reverend, and most nobly descended, Henry Lord Bishop of London / by Samuel Speed ...

¶ On Beauty.

HAve you not heard o'th' bloody Siege of Troy? Of Hellens beauty how it did destroy? The lustre of her Beauty did decay, And she was but a glorious heap of Clay. Or have you read of Jacob, how he serv'd Full fourteen years for Rachel, never swerv'd From his affections? She, his hearts delight, Was amiable and lovely in his fight. Thus we adove those whom we think excel In Beauty, though a painted Jezebel. If these deserve so much, then what doth he That made these Beauties? he whose Majestie Is altogether lovely, doth surpass The glories of an indigested Mass. The Beauty of the whole Creation is As dross to him; for the Creation's his. Be not discourag'd, oh my Soul, but place Thy firm affections on thy Saviour's face. Though Enemies may watch for thy defaults, Christ can secure thee from their fierce assaults.

Let him be beautiful within thine eye, And thou shalt live, although thou seemst to die. Be not dsheartned, oh my Soul; for though Rules may be strict and Duties hard, yet know They are as 〈◊〉〈◊〉 'gainst the worst disaster; Heaven's thy Wages, Christ himself thy Master. Lord, let my heart thy Beauty understand, No difficulty then shall reach my hand.