. Emblems divine and moral . aths of grace he crowns my conquringbrows ; And I his temples with a crown of praise. Which he accepts as an eerlasting sign That I my best beloveds am ; that he is mine. VOL. II. EMBLEMS. BOOK V. S. August. Manu. Cap. xxiv. O my soul, stamped with the image of thy God, lovehim of whom thou art so much beloved: bend tohim that boweth to thee, seek him that seeketh thee :love thy lover, by whose love thou art prevented,being the cause of thy love : be careful with thosethat are careful, want with those that want: be cleanwith the clean, and holy with the holy : choo
. Emblems divine and moral . aths of grace he crowns my conquringbrows ; And I his temples with a crown of praise. Which he accepts as an eerlasting sign That I my best beloveds am ; that he is mine. VOL. II. EMBLEMS. BOOK V. S. August. Manu. Cap. xxiv. O my soul, stamped with the image of thy God, lovehim of whom thou art so much beloved: bend tohim that boweth to thee, seek him that seeketh thee :love thy lover, by whose love thou art prevented,being the cause of thy love : be careful with thosethat are careful, want with those that want: be cleanwith the clean, and holy with the holy : choose thisfriend above all friends, who, when all are takenaway, remaineth only faithful to thee : in the day ofthy burial, when all leave thee, he will not deceivethee, but defend thee from the roaring lions preparedfor their prey. Epig. 3. Sing Hymen, to my soul. What ? lost and found,Welcomd, espousd, enjoyd so soon, and crownd !He did but climb the cross, and then came downTo th gates of hell ; triumphd, and fetchd a BOOK v.—EMBLEM lY. Canticles vii. 10. I am my beloveds, and his desire is toioard me» Like to the arctic needle, that doth guide The wandring shade by his magnetic powr,And leaves his silken gnomon* to decideThe question of the controverted hour,First frantics up and down, from side to side,And restless beats his crystalld ivry caseWith vain impatience ; jetsf from place to place,And seeks the bosom of his frozen bride ; At length he slacks his motion, and doth restHis trembling point at his bright poles belovedbreast. Een so my soul, being hurried here and thereBy evry object that presents delight, Fain would be settled, but she knows not where;She likes at morning what she loaths at night: She bows to Honour; then she lends an ear To that sweet swan-like voice of dying Pleasure,Then tumbles in the scatterd heaps of treasure ; Now flatterd with false hope ; now foild with fear:Thus, finding all the worlds delights to be But empty toys, good
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