To that clear majesty which in the North
Doth, like another fun, in glory rife, [worth;
Which standeth fix'd, yet spreads her heav'nly
Loadstone to hearts, and loadftar to all eyes.

Like heav'n in all, like earth to this alone,
That tho' great states by her support do ftand;
Yet the herself fupported is of none,

But by the finger of th' Almighty's hand.
To the divineft and the richest mind,"

Both by art's purchase, and by nature's dow'r, That ever was from heaven to earth confin'd, To fhew the utmost of a creature's pow'r :

O! many, many years may you remain

A happy angel to this happy land : Long, long may you on earth our emprefs reign, Ere you in heaven a glorious angel stand.

Stay long (fweet fpirit) ere thou to heaven depart, Who mak'f each place a heaven wherein thou art,

HER MAJESTY'S
Devoted Subjec

And Servant,

JOHN DAVIES,"

Way did my parents fend me to the fchools, That I with knowledge might enrich my mind? Since the defire to know first made men fools,

And did corrupt the root of all mankind;

For when God's hand had written in the hearts
Of the first parents, all the rules of good,
So that their skill infus'd, and did pass all arts
That ever were, before, or fince the flood;

And when their reafons eye was fharp and clear,
And (as an eagle can behold the fun)
Could have approach'd th' eternal light as near,
As th' intellectual angels could have done :

E'en then to them th' fpirit of lies fuggefts,
That they were blind, because they faw not ill,
And breath'd into their incorrupted breasts

A curious with, which did corrupt their will.

For that fame ill they straight defir'd to know; Which ill, being naught but a defect of good, In all God's works the Devil could not fhow, While man their Lord in his perfection stood.

So that themselves were first to do the ill,

Ere they thereof the knowledge could attain, Like him that knew not poifon's power to kill, Until (by tasting it) himself was flain.

[find;

E'en fo by tafting of that fruit forbid,
Where they fought knowledge they did error
Ill they defir'd to know, and ill they did;
And to give paffion eyes, made reafon blind.

For then their minds did firft in paffion fee
Those wretched fhapes of mifery and woe,
Of nakedness, of shame, of poverty, [know.
Which then their own experience made them

But then grew reafon dark, that she no more,
Could the fair forms of good and truth discern,
Bats they became, that eagles were before;
And this they got by their defire to learn.

And yet alas! when all our lamps are burn'd,
Our bodies wafted, and our spirits spent ;
When we have all the learned volumes turn'd'
Which yield men's wits both help and ornament :
What can we know? or what can we discern?
When error choaks the windows of the mind;
The divers forms of things, how can we learn?
That have been ever from our birth-day blind?

When reafon's lamp, which (like the fun in sky) Throughout man's little world her beams did fpread,

Is now become a sparkle, which doth lie
Under the ashes, half extinct, and dead:

We feek to know the moving of each sphere,

At first the startles, then the ftands amaz'd; 'At last with terror the from thence doth fly, And loathes the watry glafs wherein the gaz'd, And shuns it ftill, though the for thirst doth die:

E'en fo man's Soul which did God's image bear, And was at first fair, good, and spotless pure, r Since with her fins her beauties blotted were, Doth of all fights her own fight least endure:

For e'en at first reflection she efpies
Such strange chimeras, and fuch monsters there,
Such toys, fuch antics, and fuch vanities,

As the retires, and fhrinks for fhame and fear.

And as the man loves leaft at home to be,
That hath a fluttish houfe haunted with fprites;
So the impatient her own faults to fe,

Turns from herself, and in ftrange things delights.

For this few know themselves: for merchants broke

View their eftate with difcontent and pain, And feas are troubled, when they do revoke Their flowing waves into themselves again.

And while the face of outward things we find,
Pleafing and fair, agreeable and Iweet,
Thele things tranfport, and carry out the mind,
That with herself the mind can never meet.

Nile;

But of that clock within our breafts we bear, The fubtle motions we forget the while.

We that acquaint ourselves with ev'ry zone,

And pafs both tropics, and behold each pole, When we come home, are to ourselves unknown, And unacquainted ftill with our own Soul.

We ftudy fpeech, but others we perfuade;

We leech-craft learn, but others cure with it; We interpret laws, which other men have made, But read not thofe which in our hearts are writ.

Is it because the mind is like the eye,

Through which it gathers knowledge by degrees,

Whofe rays reflect not, but fpread outwardly;

Not feeing itself, when other things it fees? No, doublefs; for the mind can backward caft Upon herself, her understanding's light,

But fhe is fo corrupt, and so defac'd,

As her own image doth herself affright.

As is the Fable of the Lady fair,

Which for her luft was turn'd into a cow, When thirsty to a ftream fhe did repair,

And faw herfelf transform'd fhe wift not how :

And threat the feebler fenfe with fword and

fire,

The mind contracts herself, and fhrinketh in, And to herself the gladly doth retire :

As fpiders touch'd, feek their web's inmost part;
As bees in forms back to their hives return;
As blood in danger gathers to the heart;
As men feek towns, when foes the country
burn.

If aught can teach us aught, affliction's looks, (Making us pry into ourselves fo near) Teach us to know ourselves beyond all books,

Or all the learned fchools that ever were.

This mistress lately pluck'd me by the ear,

And many a golden leffon hath me taught; Hath made my fenfes quick, and reafon clear; Reform'd my will and rectify'd my thought.

So do the winds and thunders cleanfe the air:
So working feas fettle and purge the wine:
So lopp'd and pruned trees do flourish fair;
So doth the fire the drofly gold refine.

Neither Minerva, nor the learned Muse,

Nor rules of art, nor precepts of the wife, Could in my brain thofe beams of skill infufe, As but the glance of this dame's angry eyes.

Tue lights of heav'n (which are the world's fair eyes)

Look down into the world, the world to fee; And as they turn or wander in the skies,

Survey all things that on this centre be.

And yet the lights which in my tow'r do fhine, Mine eyes, which view all objects nigh and far, Look not into this little world of mine,

Nor fee my face, wherein they fixed are,

Since Nature fails us in no needful thing,
"Why want I means my inward felf to fee?
Which fight the knowledge of myself might bring,
Which to true wisdom is the first degree.

That Pow'r, which gave me eyes the world to view,

To view myself, infus'd an inward light,
Whereby my Soul, as by à mirror true,
Of her own form may take a perfect fight.

But as the sharpeft eye difcerneth nought,

Except the fun-beams in the air do fhine; So the best Soul, with her reflecting thought, Sees not herself without fome light divine.

O light, which mak'ft the light, which makes the day!

Which fet'ft the eye without, and mind within, 'Lighten my spirit with one clear heavenly ray, Which now to view itself doth first begin,