. Emblems, divine and moral . thy sceptre lost, or laid aside ? Is hell broke loose, and all her fiends untyd ?Lord, rise, and rouse, and rule, and crush their furiouspride. 6i EMBLEMS. BOOK i. Peter Rav. in Matth. The devil is the author of evil, the fountain of wick-edness, the adversary of the truth, the corrupter ofthe world, mans perpetual enemy; he planteth snares,diggeth ditches, spurreth bodies, he goadeth souls,he suggesteth thoughts, belcheth anger, exposeth vir-tues to hatred, maketh vices beloved, sow^eth error,nourisheth contention, disturbeth peace, and scatterethaffliction. Maca
. Emblems, divine and moral . thy sceptre lost, or laid aside ? Is hell broke loose, and all her fiends untyd ?Lord, rise, and rouse, and rule, and crush their furiouspride. 6i EMBLEMS. BOOK i. Peter Rav. in Matth. The devil is the author of evil, the fountain of wick-edness, the adversary of the truth, the corrupter ofthe world, mans perpetual enemy; he planteth snares,diggeth ditches, spurreth bodies, he goadeth souls,he suggesteth thoughts, belcheth anger, exposeth vir-tues to hatred, maketh vices beloved, sow^eth error,nourisheth contention, disturbeth peace, and scatterethaffliction. Macar. Let us suffer with those that suffer, and be crucifiedwith those that are crucified, that we may be glorifiedwith those that are glorified. SavanarIf there be no enemy, no fight; if no fight, novictory; if no victory, no croN^Ti. Epig. soul, sit thou a patient looker on ;Judge not the play before the play is done :Her plot has many changes : evry daySpeaks a new scene : the last act crowns the play. BOOK THE Stc lumiui; luiii<.n adciiiptui ISAIAH L. 11, You that walk in the light of your own fire ; and inthe sparks that ye have kindled, ye shall lie down insorrow. J)0, silly Cupid, snuff and trim Thy false, thy feeble light,And make her self-consuming flames more bright ;Methinks she bums too dim. 66 EMBLEMS. BOOK ii. Is this that sprightly fire,Whose more than sacred beams inspireThe ravishd hearts of men, and so inflame desire ? See, boy, how thy unthrifty blazeConsumes, how fast she wanes ;She spends herself, and her, whose wealth maintainsHer weak, her idle thy lustful blast,Which gave it lustre, make it last ?What heart can long be pleasd, where pleasure spendsso fast ? Go, wanton, place thy pale-facd light Where never-breaking dayIntends to visit mortals, or displayThy sullen shades of night:Thy torch will bum more clearIn nights un-Titand hemisphere ;Heavens scornful flames and thine can never co-appear. In vain thy busy hands address The
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