. Emblems, divine and moral . of grief and fear ;^Vhere looking down into my troubled magazine of wounds, I found him there :Let others hunt, and show their sportful art;I wish to catch the hare before she poachers use to do ; heavns form s a troubledheart. 232 EMBLEMS. ** BOOK iv. S. Ambros. Lib. iii. de is not in the market, nor in the streets : forChrist is peace, in the market are strifes: Christ isj ustice, in the market is iniquity : Christ is a labourer,in the market is idleness: Christ is charity, in themarket is slander : Christ is faith, in the market
. Emblems, divine and moral . of grief and fear ;^Vhere looking down into my troubled magazine of wounds, I found him there :Let others hunt, and show their sportful art;I wish to catch the hare before she poachers use to do ; heavns form s a troubledheart. 232 EMBLEMS. ** BOOK iv. S. Ambros. Lib. iii. de is not in the market, nor in the streets : forChrist is peace, in the market are strifes: Christ isj ustice, in the market is iniquity : Christ is a labourer,in the market is idleness: Christ is charity, in themarket is slander : Christ is faith, in the market isfraud. Let us not therefore seek Christ, where wecannot find Christ. S. HiERON. Ser. ix. Ep. xxii. ad is jealous: he will not have thy face seen :let foolish virgins ramble abroad, seek thou thy loveat home. Epig. , lost thy love ? will neither bed nor boardReceive him ? not by tears to be implord ?It is the ship that moves, and not the coast;I fear, I fear, my soul, tis thou art lost. EMBLEMS. 233 CANTICLES nL 3, 4. Have yCM seen him whom my soul loveth? When Ihad past a little from them, then I found him ; Itook hold on him, and left him not. ^Y^^T secret comer ? what unwonted way Has scapd the ransack of my rambling thought ?The fox hy night, nor the dull owl by day, Have never searchd those places I have sought. 234 EMBLEMS. BOOK iv. Whilst they lamented, absence taught my breastThe ready road to grief, \vithout request;My day had neither comfort, nor my night had rest. How hath my unregarded language vented The sad tautologies of lavish passion !How often have I languishd unlamented ! How oft have I complaind, without compassion !I askd the city-watch, but some denyd meThe common street, whilst others would misguideme ;Some would debar me; some divert me; some deride me. Mark how the widowd turtle, having lostThe faithful partner of her royal her feeble wings from coast to coast,Hunts evry path ; thinks evry shade doth partHer ab
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