Great Throughts Treasury

"Death’s but a path that must be trod, if man would ever pass to God."

"Let those love now who never loved before; Let those who always loved, now love the more."

"Solitude's the nurse of woe."

"51 Psalm - Look mercyfully down O Lord & wash us from our sinn Cleanse us from wicked deeds without from wicked thoughts within Lord I Confess my many sinns that I against thee doe Each minute they're before my face & wound my soul anew So Great my god my ills have been Gainst thee & onely thee Thy Justice tho' I were Condemnd would good & righteous bee For att my birth I wickedness Did with my breath suck in But thou shalt teach me in thy ways & keep me pure from sinn Thoult me with hyssopp purge who am all over soil's & stain's Thou with thy sanctifiyng grace shalt wash & make me clean Thoult bless my days with peace no sound But Joy shall reach mine ear That where thy Justice wounded Lord There Gladness may appear Blott from thy thoughts past faults & from The present turn thy face O make my spirit right & good Confirm my heart with grace thy Presence & thy mercy lett Me ever Ld possess Me with the comfort of thy help & with thy love still bless Then shall the wicked know thy pow'r & turn ym from theyr wayes Deliver me from blood my god & I will sing thy praise. Unseal my lips & to ye Bad I will thy mercy shew For since thou lovest not sacrifice Tis all that I can doo A heart that is with sorrow pierct My God thou wilt receive this is ye sweetest offering that we to thee can give On Sion Graciously look down Preserve us still we pray & hearts upon thine altars Lord Instead of beasts we'el Lay. "

"Thou, by pity's soft extream, Mov'd, and won, and set on flame, Assum'd the form of man, and fell In pains, to rescue man from hell; How bright thine humble glories rise And match the lustre of the skies, From death and hell's dejected state Arising, thou resum'd thy seat, And golden thrones of bliss prepar'd Above, to be thy saints reward. How bright thy glorious honours rise, And with new lustre grace the skies. For thee, the sweet seraphick Choir Raise the voice and tune the Lyre, And praises with harmonious sounds Through all the highest heav'n rebounds. O make our notes with theirs agree And bless the souls that sing of thee: To thee, the churches here rejoice, The solemn organs aid the voice: To sacred roofs the sound we raise, The sacred roofs resound thy praise: And while our notes in one agree, O! bless the church that sings to thee. "

"The beam-repelling mists arise, And evening spreads obscurer skies; The twilight will the night forerun, And night itself be soon begun. Upon thy knees devoutly bow, And pray the Lord of glory now To fill thy breast, or deadly sin May cause a blinder night within. And whether pleasing vapours rise Which gently dim the closing eyes, Which make the weary members bless'd With sweet refreshment in their rest, Or whether spirits in the brain Dispel their soft embrace again, And on my watchful bed I stay, Forsook by sleep and waiting day, Be God for ever in my view And never He forsake me, too; But, still as day concludes in night To break again with new-born light, His wondrous bounty let me find With still a more enlighten'd mind When grace and love in one agree, Grace from God, and love from me, Grace that will from heaven inspire, Love that seals it with desire, Grace and love that mingle beams, And fill me with encreasing flames. Thou that hast Thy palace far Above the moon and every star, Thou that sittest on a throne To which the night was never known, Regard my voice and make me bless'd, By kindly granting its request. If thoughts on Thee my soul employ, My darkness will afford me joy, 'Till Thou shalt call, and I shall soar, And part with darkness evermore. "

"Lovely, lasting peace of mind! Sweet delight of human-kind! Heavenly-born, and bred on high, To crown the fav'rites of the sky With more of happiness below, Than victors in a triumph know! Whither, O whither art thou fled, To lay thy meek, contented head; What happy region dost thou please To make the seat of calms and ease! Ambition searches all its sphere Of pomp and state, to meet thee there. Increasing Avarice would find Thy presence in its gold enshrin'd. The bold advent'rer ploughs his way Through rocks amidst the foaming sea, To gain thy love; and then perceives Thou wert not in the rocks and waves. The silent heart which grief assails, Treads soft and lonesome o'er the vales, Sees daisies open, rivers run, And seeks (as I have vainly done) Amusing thought; but learns to know That solitude's the nurse of woe. No real happiness is found In trailing purple o'er the ground; Or in a soul exalted high, To range the circuit of the sky, Converse with stars above, and know All nature in its forms below; The rest it seeks, in seeking dies, And doubts at last, for knowledge, rise. Lovely, lasting peace, appear! This world itself, if thou art here, Is once again with Eden blest, And man contains it in his breast. 'Twas thus, as under shade I stood, I sung my wishes to the wood, And lost in thought, no more perceiv'd The branches whisper as they wav'd: It seem'd, as all the quiet place Confess'd the presence of the Grace. When thus she spoke-'Go rule thy will, Bid thy wild passions all be still, Know God-and bring thy heart to know The joys which from religion flow: Then ev'ry Grace shall prove its guest, And I'll be there to crown the rest.' Oh! by yonder mossy seat, In my hours of sweet retreat, Might I thus my soul employ, With sense of gratitude and joy! Rais'd as ancient prophets were, In heavenly vision, praise, and pray'r; Pleasing all men, hurting none, Pleas'd and bless'd with God alone: Then while the gardens take my sight, With all the colours of delight; While silver waters glide along, To please my ear, and court my song; I'll lift my voice, and tune my string, And thee, great source of nature, sing. The sun that walks his airy way, To light the world, and give the day; The moon that shines with borrow'd light; The stars that gild the gloomy night; The seas that roll unnumber'd waves; The wood that spreads its shady leaves; The field whose ears conceal the grain, The yellow treasure of the plain; All of these, and all I see, Should be sung, and sung by me: They speak their maker as they can, But want and ask the tongue of man. Go search among your idle dreams, Your busy or your vain extremes; And find a life of equal bliss, Or own the next begun in this. "

"By the blue taper's trembling light, No more I waste the wakeful night, Intent with endless view to pore The schoolmen and the sages o'er: Their books from wisdom widely stray, Or point at best the longest way. I'll seek a readier path, and go Where wisdom's surely taught below. How deep yon azure dyes the sky! Where orbs of gold unnumber'd lie, While through their ranks in silver pride The nether crescent seems to glide! The slumb'ring breeze forgets to breathe, The lake is smooth and clear beneath, Where once again the spangled show Descends to meet our eyes below. The grounds which on the right aspire, In dimness from the view retire: The left presents a place of graves, Whose wall the silent water laves. That steeple guides thy doubtful sight Among the livid gleams of night. There pass with melancholy state, By all the solemn heaps of fate, And think, as softly-sad you tread Above the venerable dead, "Time was, like thee they life possest, And time shall be, that thou shalt rest." Those graves, with bending osier bound, That nameless heave the crumpled ground, Quick to the glancing thought disclose, Where toil and poverty repose. The flat smooth stones that bear a name, The chisel's slender help to fame, (Which ere our set of friends decay Their frequent steps may wear away,) A middle race of mortals own, Men, half ambitious, all unknown. The marble tombs that rise on high, Whose dead in vaulted arches lie, Whose pillars swell with sculptur'd stones, Arms, angels, epitaphs, and bones, These (all the poor remains of state) Adorn the rich, or praise the great; Who, while on earth in fame they live, Are senseless of the fame they give. Ha! while I gaze, pale Cynthia fades, The bursting earth unveils the shades! All slow, and wan, and wrapp'd with shrouds They rise in visionary crowds, And all with sober accent cry, "Think, mortal, what it is to die." Now from yon black and fun'ral yew, That bathes the charnel-house with dew, Methinks I hear a voice begin; (Ye ravens, cease your croaking din; Ye tolling clocks, no time resound O'er the long lake and midnight ground) It sends a peal of hollow groans, Thus speaking from among the bones. "When men my scythe and darts supply, How great a king of fears am I! They view me like the last of things: They make, and then they dread, my stings. Fools! if you less provok'd your fears, No more my spectre form appears. Death's but a path that must be trod, If man would ever pass to God; A port of calms, a state of ease From the rough rage of swelling seas. "Why then thy flowing sable stoles, Deep pendant cypress, mourning poles, Loose scarfs to fall athwart thy weeds, Long palls, drawn hearses, cover'd steeds, And plumes of black, that, as they tread, Nod o'er the scutcheons of the dead? "Nor can the parted body know, Nor wants the soul, these forms of woe. As men who long in prison dwell, With lamps that glimmer round the cell, Whene'er their suff'ring years are run, Spring forth to greet the glitt'ring sun: Such joy though far transcending sense, Have pious souls at parting hence. On earth, and in the body plac'd, A few, and evil years they waste; But when their chains are cast aside, See the glad scene unfolding wide, Clap the glad wing, and tow'r away, And mingle with the blaze of day." "

"A Beavy of the fair & Gay, Such as are daily Smoakt in tea, & toasted over wine, Vext to be made so long the Jeast Of tongues & pens, to go in quest Of reputation Joyn. To K---d's house they first repair, But scarce find any footsteps there, to keep them off cold scent; Long had she fled his slavery, Her gallants stabbd him first, & she Woud bury him in paint. To O---y's they next advance, But he was vanishd on a glance to Make some conquest shott; One who so many loves as she, & one who loves fooles company, Must love for you know what. Of T---n newes in vain they sought, Scarce M---ws covets to be thought So ignorant in dressing; For scandall had like Cr---fts appeard, He urgd his suit, the God retird, & left the Nymph unlacing. No longer on your search remain, For since your labour must be vain, What need you make it long: Believe me fairs, that every one preserves him for her self alone, Upon her proper tongue. "

"A Divine Pastorall - Strephon & I upon a bank were laid, Where the gay spring in varied colours playd, & her rich odours lavish nature shed. When thus the Youth, while this we wondring view Can we but wonder at its maker too, Amintas, if I know him, did not use Shoud such a subject call, to want a muse, Oh sing the great, the wise creating powr, While silent I admire, & in your words adore. Then I, for long before the thought was mine, Did thus to meet the good demand begin. Ye Mountains, & ye hills which lower rise, Ye humble vallies, & ye spreading trees, Ye pleasant meadows, & thou easy stream, O praise the Lord, O magnify his name! Yes, as you can you tell his name abroad, The wondrous work proclaims the worker God. Gently awhile sweet Breezes move along, Then swiftly bear aloft my finisht song. Ye tame & savage beasts in one accord, Joyn with all these to Glorify the Lord; Ye Birds, Ye tunefull birds in him rejoyce, Give him your musick, who gave you your voice, Hark how the cheerfull labour of their throats, returns the tribute of their pretty notes. Gently awhile sweet Breezes move along, Then swiftly bear aloft my rising song. But still the earth, & still the seas are mute, The Birds are speechless, speechless is the Brute, Man that alone can speak his praise must doo't. Praise him O man with a transported heart, Let the melodious hand confess its art, Let the raisd voice his bounteous glory's sing, Shoud less be joynd to praise so great a King? Gently awhile sweet Breezes move along, Then swiftly bear aloft my rising song. For thee the seasons run the circling year, The clouds drop fatness, & the fruits appear, Thee as the Lord of all below he plac'd, Free in thy choice, & by thy chusing bless'd, Tis true we must account for all we do, But to a God alone th' account is due. Gently awhile sweet Breezes move along, Then swiftly bear aloft my rising song. The Seraphim, & all the Heavenly pow'r, Bright in their shapes, but in their virtues more, Came to the shade where our first parents lay, They heard him reason, & they heard her pray, Then struck their Golden harps, & as they flew, Cry'd, Halelujah, man is made for heaven too. Go on, my Muse, Go on, & Gratefully express, The Creatures thanks, in the Creators praise. To see this pair the fallen powrs came in, Torturd with malice, & deformd by sin, They saw this happy pair designd to fill The realms, from whence they fell by doing ill, They heard their Joyfull anthems to their God, & faign they woud have harmd ym if they coud, Whom they woud harm they impotently curse, Their strength indeed was great but God was ours. Go on, My Muse, Go on, & Gratefully express. The Creatures thanks, in the Creators praise. I know I cannot speak his mercy's through, Yet what I can, of what I ought Ile do, Mean as they are, my notes to him belong, Mean as it is, he will reward my song. Go on, my Muse go on, & gratefully express The Creatures thanks, in the Creators praise. On such a theam I coud for ever dwell, Thus lett my voice when I must perish fail & thus my monument my story tell; Here lyes a Youth—stay passenger & pray, Nor pitty him who di'd no common way, But when his breath was all in hymns bestowd Sent up his soul to bear 'em to his God. So lett me end, the twilight does appear, The heat has left to rarify the air, The winds it broke grow strong enough to fly, Yes swiftly fly ye winds, & bear my Lays on high. "

"A Fairy Tale In The Ancient English Style - In Britain's Isle and Arthur's days, When Midnight Faeries daunc'd the Maze, Liv'd Edwin of the Green; Edwin, I wis, a gentle Youth, Endow'd with Courage, Sense and Truth, Tho' badly Shap'd he been. His Mountain Back mote well be said To measure heigth against his Head, And lift it self above: Yet spite of all that Nature did To make his uncouth Form forbid, This Creature dar'd to love. He felt the Charms of Edith's Eyes, Nor wanted Hope to gain the Prize, Cou'd Ladies took within; But one Sir Topaz dress'd with Art, And, if a Shape cou'd win a Heart, He had a Shape to win. Edwin (if right I read my Song) With slighted Passion pac'd along All in the Moony Light: 'Twas near an old enchaunted Court, Where sportive Faeries made Resort To revel out the Night. His Heart was drear, his Hope was cross'd, 'Twas late, 'twas farr, the Path was lost That reach'd the Neighbour-Town; With weary Steps he quits the Shades, Resolv'd the darkling Dome he treads, And drops his Limbs adown. But scant he lays him on the Floor, When hollow Winds remove the Door, A trembling rocks the Ground: And (well I ween to count aright) At once an hundred Tapers light On all the Walls around. Now sounding Tongues assail his Ear, Now sounding Feet approachen near, And now the Sounds encrease: And from the Corner where he lay He sees a Train profusely gay Come pranckling o'er the Place. But (trust me Gentles!) never yet Was dight a Masquing half so neat, Or half so rich before; The Country lent the sweet Perfumes, The Sea the Pearl, the Sky the Plumes, The Town its silken Store. Now whilst he gaz'd, a Gallant drest In flaunting Robes above the rest, With awfull Accent cry'd; What Mortall of a wretched Mind, Whose Sighs infect the balmy Wind, Has here presum'd to hide? At this the Swain whose vent'rous Soul No Fears of Magick Art controul, Advanc'd in open sight; ‘Nor have I Cause of Dreed, he said, ‘Who view by no Presumption led ‘Your Revels of the Night. ‘'Twas Grief, for Scorn of faithful Love, ‘Which made my Steps unweeting rove ‘Amid the nightly Dew. 'Tis well, the Gallant crys again, We Faeries never injure Men Who dare to tell us true. Exalt thy Love-dejected Heart, Be mine the Task, or e'er we part, To make thee Grief resign; Now take the Pleasure of thy Chaunce; Whilst I with Mab my part'ner daunce, Be little Mable thine. He spoke, and all a sudden there Light Musick floats in wanton Air; The Monarch leads the Queen: The rest their Faerie Partners found, And Mable trimly tript the Ground With Edwin of the Green. The Dauncing past, the Board was laid, And siker such a Feast was made As Heart and Lip desire; Withouten Hands the Dishes fly, The Glasses with a Wish come nigh, And with a Wish retire. But now to please the Faerie King, Full ev'ry deal they laugh and sing, And antick Feats devise; Some wind and tumble like an Ape, And other-some transmute their Shape In Edwin's wond'ring Eyes. 'Till one at last that Robin hight, (Renown'd for pinching Maids by Night) Has hent him up aloof; And full against the Beam he flung, Where by the Back the Youth he hung To spraul unneath the Roof. From thence, 'Reverse my Charm, he crys, 'And let it fairely now suffice 'The Gambol has been shown. But Oberon answers with a Smile, Content thee Edwin for a while, The Vantage is thine own. Here ended all the Phantome-play; They smelt the fresh Approach of Day, And heard a Cock to crow; The whirling Wind that bore the Crowd Has clap'd the Door, and whistled loud, To warn them all to go. Then screaming all at once they fly, And all at once the Tapers dy; Poor Edwin falls to Floor; Forlorn his State, and dark the Place, Was never Wight in sike a Case Through all the Land before. But soon as Dan Apollo rose, Full Jolly Creature home he goes, He feels his Back the less; His honest Tongue and steady Mind Han rid him of the Lump behind Which made him want Success. With lusty livelyhed he talks, He seems a dauncing as he walks, His Story soon took wind; And beautious Edith sees the Youth, Endow'd with Courage, Sense and Truth, Without a Bunch behind. The Story told, Sir Topaz mov'd, (The Youth of Edith erst approv'd) To see the Revel Scene: At close of Eve he leaves his home, And wends to find the ruin'd Dome All on the gloomy Plain. As there he bides, it so befell, The Wind came rustling down a Dell, A shaking seiz'd the Wall: Up spring the Tapers as before, The Faeries bragly foot the Floor, And Musick fills the Hall. But certes sorely sunk with woe Sir Topaz sees the Elphin show, His Spirits in him dy: When Oberon crys, ‘a Man is near, ‘A mortall Passion, cleeped Fear, ‘Hangs flagging in the Sky. With that Sir Topaz (Hapless Youth!) In Accents fault'ring ay for Ruth Intreats them Pity graunt; For als he been a mister Wight Betray'd by wand'ring in the Night To tread the circled Haunt; ‘Ah Losell Vile, at once they roar! ‘And little skill'd of Faerie lore, ‘Thy Cause to come we know: ‘Now has thy Kestrell Courage fell; ‘And Faeries, since a Ly you tell, ‘Are free to work thee Woe. Then Will, who bears the wispy Fire To trail the Swains among the Mire, The Caitive upward flung; There like a Tortoise in a Shop He dangled from the Chamber-top, Where whilome Edwin hung. The Revel now proceeds apace, Deffly they frisk it o'er the Place, They sit, they drink, and eat; The time with frolick Mirth beguile, And poor Sir Topaz hangs the while 'Till all the Rout retreat. By this the Starrs began to wink, They skriek, they fly, the Tapers sink, And down ydrops the Knight. For never Spell by Faerie laid With strong Enchantment bound a Glade Beyond the length of Night. Chill, dark, alone, adreed, he lay, 'Till up the Welkin rose the Day, Then deem'd the Dole was o'er: But wot ye well his harder Lot? His seely Back the Bunch has got Which Edwin lost afore. This Tale a Sybil-Nurse ared; She softly strok'd my youngling Head, And when the Tale was done, ‘Thus some are born, my Son (she cries) ‘With base Impediments to rise, ‘And some are born with none. ‘But Virtue can it self advance ‘To what the Fav'rite Fools of Chance ‘By Fortune seem'd design'd; ‘Virtue can gain the Odds of Fate, ‘And from it self shake off the Weight ‘Upon th' unworthy Mind. "

"Just when ye dead of night began to fail & boding visions senceless dreams expell Methought a matron stood beside my bed Upon her face a wondrous sweetness playd & pointed Glorys dressd the modest visions head my tongue grew speechless & my eyes were fixt by silent fear with admiration mixt She to my lips a living coal apply's perhaps from some well pleasing sacrifice then thus she said while I more courage found to bear her sight & hear ye heav'nly sound from the bright realms my vot'ries have I came saints are my vot'ries Piety my name Oft do I come but often am dispisd happy were all if all my favour prizd now my best offers to yr soul I give Accept these offers O be mine & live Ile teach you how to pray for wt you want & when I teach you God yr prayr will grant Ile teach you your redeemer to rehearse & glide in flames of love along yr verse Lett other men describe wth flowing lines How Damon courts or Amarillis shines But for your subject chuse a theme divine fames their reward while heaven it self is thine & then since Angells sing of nought below they'le sing like men but like an angell you Be thou my bard (& as these words she said She powrd a sacred unction on my head then thus proceeded) Be thy muse thy Zeal dare to be good & all my Joys reveal if Drunkards to their Deity apply A short contentment & a fleeting Joy Apply to me true peace & lasting bliss I should not dress in weaker charms yn his New-paint ye love yt hov'ring over beds from purple wings his guilty pleasures sheds his bow be sable sable be the darts but tingd with endless flame to scorch our hearts his bones without the sanguin stream or vital parts But above all employ thy utmost powr on love Divine twill need it all & more Oh boundless Goodness to poor mankind shown tell but the fact, lett rhetorick alone, no colours can become it like its own. Draw a Descending Jesus from ye sky Make the great being in a manger ly Of men despisd of men he came to save pursu'd afflicted to ye very grave Make ye great being cheerfully submitt & me like Mary weeping at his feet Much have I said & more woud tell you yet but raptures smother what I woud repeat My thoughts grow giddy while I strive to sound the height & depth of love wthout a bound My God I cannot comprehend thy wayes but what I cannot comprehend Ile prayse & then With raptures in her mouth she fled the Cloud (for on a cloud she seemd to tread) its curles unfolded & around her spread My downy rest the warmth of fancy broke & when my thoughts grew settled thus I spoke Ah Gracious Lord make all my dreams like this & make mine innocence compose my bliss When reason lyes Asleep & leaves to reign May my good Angell my passions restrain Or I must wake to find upon my breast the gaudy forms more deep yn ere imprest they'le make my reason's victorys in vain & make my former habits mine again Thus if the snake wch hardly moves the tail to shun the conqu'ring season takes a cell if nature in a sleep a skin prepare give him more strength & make him look more fair He finds his robe is changd fm what he wore He proudly shoots along ye sunny shore & hunts the man fm whom he fled before. "

"At length some pity warm'd the master's breast ('Twas then, his threshold first receiv'd a guest), Slow creaking turns the door with jealous care, And half he welcomes in the shivering pair."

"But now the clouds in airy tumult fly; The sun, emerging, opes an azure sky; A fresher green the smiling leaves display, And glittering as they tremble, cheer the day."

"Death's but a path that must be trod, If man would ever pass to God."

"Far in a wild, unknown to public view, From youth to age a reverend hermit grew; The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell, His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well, Remote from man, with God he pass'd the days; Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise."

"Let time that makes you homely, make you sage."

"No real happiness is found In trailing purple o'er the ground."

"Now sunk the sun; the closing hour of day Came onward, mantled o'er with sober grey; Nature in silence bid the world repose."

"Remote from man, with God he passed the days, Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise."

"Still an angel appear to each lover beside, But still be a woman to you."

"Then in a kiss she breath'd her various arts, Of trifling prettily with wounded hearts; A mind for love, but still a changing mind; The lisp affected, and the glance design'd; The sweet confusing blush, the secret wink, The gentle-swimming walk, the courteous sink; The stare for strangeness fit, for scorn the frown For decent yielding, looks declining down; The practised languish, where well-feign'd desire Would own its melting in a mutual fire; Gay smiles to comfort; April showers to move; And all the nature, all the art of love."

"We call it only pretty Fanny’s way."

"The very thoughts of change I hate, As much as of despair; Nor ever covet to be great, Unless it be for her."