Emblems divine and moral (1839) (14564362977)

Identifier: emblemsdivinemor00quarrich (find matches)
Title: Emblems divine and moral
Year: 1839 (1830s)
Authors: Quarles, Francis, 1592-1644 Toplady, Augustus, 1740-1778 Ryland, John, 1723-1792 Wilson, Robert, A. M
Subjects: Emblems
Publisher: London, J. Bennet
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN



Text Appearing Before Image:
call theAlphabet the Chriscross; and in that sense the word is evidentlyused here. BOOK II.—EMBLEM XIIL Prov. xxvi. 11. As a dog returneth to his vomit, so a fool veturnethto his folly, O, I am wounded! and my wounds do smartBeyond my patience or great Chirons art:I yield, I yield; the day, the palm, is thine ;Thy bow s more true, thy shafts more fierce, than mine.Hold, hold, O hold thy conquring hand ! What needTo send more darts ? the first has done the deed.Oft have we struggled, when our equal armsShot equal shafts, inflicted equal harms ;But this exceeds, and with her flaming head,Twi-forkd with death, has struck my conscience dead.But must I die ? Ah me ! if that were all.Then, then Id stroke my bleeding wounds, and callThis dart a cordial, and with joy endureThese harsh ingredients, where my griefs my cure.But something whispers in my dying ear,There is an after-day; which day I fear.The slender debt to nature s quickly paid,Dischargd, perchance, with greater ease than made;
Text Appearing After Image:
Poft VxQucra Dcemoii. St> when the. fatal Wound /ta^ /itrrct/ t/ir Jfrart,Th msulhnq /tWi</ ifr// ut/t/raratr f/tc , S/tiart. BOOK II. EMBLEMS. 92 But if that pale-facd sergeant make arrest, Ten thousand actions would (whereof the least Is more than all this lower world can bail) Be enterd and condemn me to the jail Of Stygian darkness, bound in red-hot chains, And gripd with tortures worse than Tityan pains. Farewell, my vain, farewell, my loose delights; Farewell, my rambling days, my revling nights : Twas you betrayd me first, and, when ye found My soul at vantage, gave my soul the wound: Farewell, my bullion* gods, whose sovreign looks So often catchd me with their golden hooks : Go, seek another slave; ye must all go; I cannot serve my God and bullion too. Farewell, false Honour; you whose airy wings Did mount my soul above the thrones of kings ; Then flatterd me, took pet, and, in disdain, Nippd my green buds : then kickd me down again: Farewell, my bow ; farewell, my Cypr