Banish'd from thee I live;--ne'er to return, Unless thou giv'st my small remains an urn.
*251*
COCK-CROW
Bell-man of night, if I about shall go For to deny my Master, do thou crow!
Thou stop'st Saint Peter in the midst of sin;
Stay me, by crowing, ere I do begin;
Better it is, premonish'd, for to shun A sin, than fall to weeping when 'tis done.
*252*
TO HIS CONSCIENCE
Can I not sin, but thou wilt be My private protonotary?
Can I not woo thee, to pass by A short and sweet iniquity?
I'll cast a mist and cloud upon My delicate transgression, So utter dark, as that no eye Shall see the hugg'd impiety.
Gifts blind the wise, and bribes do please And wind all other witnesses;
And wilt not thou with gold be tied, To lay thy pen and ink aside, That in the mirk and tongueless night, Wanton I may, and thou not write?
--It will not be: And therefore, now, For times to come, I'll make this vow;
From aberrations to live free:
So I'll not fear the judge, or thee.
*253*
TO HEAVEN
Open thy gates To him who weeping waits, And might come in, But that held back by sin.
Let mercy be So kind, to set me free, And I will straight Come in, or force the gate.
*254*
AN ODE OF THE BIRTH OF OUR SAVIOUR
In numbers, and but these few, I sing thy birth, oh JESU!
Thou pretty Baby, born here, With sup'rabundant scorn here;
Who for thy princely port here, Hadst for thy place Of birth, a base Out-stable for thy court here.
Instead of neat enclosures Of interwoven osiers;
Instead of fragrant posies Of daffadils and roses, Thy cradle, kingly stranger, As gospel tells, Was nothing else, But, here, a homely manger.
But we with silks, not cruels, With sundry precious jewels, And lily-work will dress thee;
And as we dispossess thee Of clouts, we'll make a chamber, Sweet babe, for thee, Of ivory, And plaster'd round with amber.
The Jews, they did disdain thee;
But we will entertain thee With glories to await here, Upon thy princely state here, And more for love than pity:
From year to year We'll make thee, here, A free-born of our city.
*255*
TO HIS SAVIOUR, A CHILD;
A PRESENT, BY A CHILD
Go, pretty child, and bear this flower Unto thy little Saviour;
And tell him, by that bud now blown, He is the Rose of Sharon known.
When thou hast said so, stick it there Upon his bib or stomacher;
And tell him, for good handsel too, That thou hast brought a whistle new, Made of a clean straight oaten reed, To charm his cries at time of need;
Tell him, for coral, thou hast none, But if thou hadst, he should have one;
But poor thou art, and known to be Even as moneyless as he.
Lastly, if thou canst win a kiss From those melifluous lips of his;--
Then never take a second on, To spoil the first impression.
*256*
GRACE FOR A CHILD
Here, a little child, I stand, Heaving up my either hand:
Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to thee, For a benison to fall On our meat, and on us all.
Amen.
*257*
HIS LITANY, TO THE HOLY SPIRIT
In the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When I lie within my bed, Sick in heart, and sick in head, And with doubts discomforted, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
