. Emblems divine and moral . far above the frowns of Caesar. Lord, if my hope dare let her anchor fallOn thee the chiefest good no need to callFor earths inferior trash; thou, thou art all in 248 EMBLEMS. BOOK 4. S, August. Soliloqu. Cap. xiii. I follow this thing, I pursue that, but I am filledwith nothing. But when I found thee, who artthat immutable, undivided, and only good in thy-self, what I obtained, I wanted not; for what Iobtained not, I grieved not; with what I was, possessed, my whole desire was satisfied. S. Behn. Ser. ix. Sup. Beati qui habent, &c. Let other pretend merit; l
. Emblems divine and moral . far above the frowns of Caesar. Lord, if my hope dare let her anchor fallOn thee the chiefest good no need to callFor earths inferior trash; thou, thou art all in 248 EMBLEMS. BOOK 4. S, August. Soliloqu. Cap. xiii. I follow this thing, I pursue that, but I am filledwith nothing. But when I found thee, who artthat immutable, undivided, and only good in thy-self, what I obtained, I wanted not; for what Iobtained not, I grieved not; with what I was, possessed, my whole desire was satisfied. S. Behn. Ser. ix. Sup. Beati qui habent, &c. Let other pretend merit; let him brag of theburthen of the day; let him boast of his sabbath-fasts, and let him glory in that he is not as othermen: but for me, it is good to cleave unto theLord, and to put my trust in my Lord God. EriG. 13. Let Boreas* blasts, and Neptunes waves be iEolus commands the waves, the wind :Fear not the rocks, or worlds imperious waves;Thou climbst a Rock, my soul, a Rock that saves. nooK 4. HMBLIiMS. 249 CANTICLES ir. 3. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, andhis trait was sweet to my taste. Look how the sheep, whose rambling steps dostray From the safe blessing of her shepherds eyes,Oft-soon becomes the unprotected prey To the wingd squadron of beleagring flies; 250 EMBLEMS. BOOK. 1 Where, swelterd with thescorchingbeamsof day,She frisks Irom busli to brake, and wildly tliosawayFrom her own self, een of herself afraid ;She shrouds her troubled brows in evry glade,And craves the mercy of the soft removing shade. Een so my wandring soul, that hath digressdFrom her great Shepherd, is the hourly pi-cyOf all my sins ; these vultures in my breast Gripe my Promethean heart; both night anddayI hunt from place to place, but find no rest;I know not where to go, nor where to stay :The eye of vengeance burns, her flames invadeMy sweltring soul: my soul hath oft she can find no shroud, yet can she feel noshade I I sought the shades of mirth, to wear
Size: 1416px × 1764px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthorquarlesfrancis159, bookcentury1800, booksubjectemblems
