. Emblems divine and moral . of grief and fear;Where looking down into my troubling magazine of wounds, I found him there :Let others hunt and show their sportful art;I wish to catch the hare before she start,As poachers use to do; heavns forms a troubledheart. 240 KMBLEMS. BOOK 4. S Am ORGS. Lib. iii. de Virg. Christ is not in the market, nor in the streets:for Christ is peace, in the market are strifes:Christ is justice, in the market is iniquity:Christ is a labourer, in the market is idleness :Christ is charity, in the market is slander: Christis faith, in the market is fraud. Le
. Emblems divine and moral . of grief and fear;Where looking down into my troubling magazine of wounds, I found him there :Let others hunt and show their sportful art;I wish to catch the hare before she start,As poachers use to do; heavns forms a troubledheart. 240 KMBLEMS. BOOK 4. S Am ORGS. Lib. iii. de Virg. Christ is not in the market, nor in the streets:for Christ is peace, in the market are strifes:Christ is justice, in the market is iniquity:Christ is a labourer, in the market is idleness :Christ is charity, in the market is slander: Christis faith, in the market is fraud. Let us nottherefore seek Christ, where we cannot findChrist. S. HiERON. Ser. ix. Ep. xxii. adEustoch. Jesus is jealous : he will not have thy face seen :let foolish virgins ramble abroad, seek thou thylove at )>ome. Epig. 11. What, lost thy love ? will neither bed nor boardReceive him ? not by tears to be implordIt is the ship that moves, and not the coast;I fear, I fear, my soul, tis thou art lost BOOK 4. 12. 211. CANTICLES. III. 3, 4. Have yon seen him whom my soul lovetli ^ When Ihad past a little from them, then I luund himj Itook hold on him, and left him not. What secret comer ? what unwonted way Has scapd the ransack of my rambling thought? The fox by night, nor the dull owl by day, Have never searchd those places I have soughtt 242 KMBLEMS. BOOK 4. Whilst they lamented, absence taught my breastThe ready road to grief, without 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 languished unlamented ! How oft have I complaind, without compassion!I askd the city-watch, but some denyd meThe common street, whilst others would mis-guide me;Some would debar me; some divert me ; some de-ride me Mark how the widowd turtle, having lostThe faithful partner of her royal heart,Stretches her feeble wings from coast to coast,Hunts evry path ; thinks evry shade doth
Size: 1431px × 1747px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthorquarlesfrancis159, bookcentury1800, booksubjectemblems
