Selected Works. George Herbert
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Название: Selected Works
Автор: George Herbert
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Зарубежные стихи
isbn: 9781420971606
isbn:
Dust blown by wit, till that they both were blinde:
Thou shalt recover all thy goods in kinde,
Who wert disseized by usurping lust:
All knees shall bow to thee; all wits shall rise,
And praise him who did make and mend our eies.
25. THE TEMPER.
HOW should I praise thee, Lord! how should my rymes
Gladly engrave thy love in steel,
If what my soul doth feel sometimes,
My soul might ever feel!
Although there were some fourtie heav’ns, or more,
Sometimes I peere above them all;
Sometimes I hardly reach a score,
Sometimes to hell I fall.
O rack me not to such a vast extent;
Those distances belong to thee:
The world’s too little for thy tent,
A grave too big for me.
Wilt thou meet arms with man, that thou dost stretch
A crumme of dust from heav’n to hell?
Will great God measure with a wretch?
Shall he thy stature spell?
O let me, when thy roof my soul hath hid,
O let me roost and nestle there:
Then of a sinner thou art rid
And I of hope and fear.
Yet take thy way; for sure thy way is best:
Stretch or contract me thy poore debter:
This is but tuning of my breast,
To make the musick better.
Whether I flie with angels, fall with dust,
Thy hands made both, and I am there.
Thy power and love, my love and trust,
Make one place ev’ry where.
26. THE TEMPER.
IT cannot be. Where is that mightie joy,
Which just now took up all my heart?
Lord! if thou must needs use thy dart,
Save that, and me; or sin for both destroy.
The grosser world stands to thy word and art;
But thy diviner world of grace
Thou suddenly doth raise and race,
And ev’ry day a new Creatour art.
O fix thy chair of grace, that all my powers
May also fix their reverence:
For when thou dost depart from hence,
They grow unruly, and sit in thy bowers.
Scatter, or binde them all to bend to thee:
Though elements change, and heaven move;
Let not thy higher court remove,
But keep a standing majestie in me.
27. JORDAN.
WHO sayes that fictions onely and false hair
Become a verse? Is there in truth no beautie?
Is all good structure in a winding stair?
May no lines passe, except they do their dutie
Not to a true, but painted chair?
Is it not verse, except enchanted groves
And sudden arbours shadow coarse-spunne lines?
Must purling streams refresh a lover’s loves?
Must all be vail’d, while he that reades, divines,
Catching the sense at two removes?
Shepherds are honest people; let them sing:
Riddle who list, for me, and pull for prime:
I envie no man’s nightingale or spring;
Nor let them punish me with losse of ryme,
Who plainly say, My God, My King.
28. EMPLOYMENT.
IF as a flowre doth spread and die,
Thou wouldst extend me to some good,
Before I were by frost’s extremitie
Nipt in the bud;
The sweetnesse and the praise were thine;
But the extension and the room,
Which in thy garland I should fill, were mine
At thy great doom.
For as thou dost impart thy grace,
The greater shall our glorie be.
The measure of our joyes is in this place,
The stuffe with thee.
Let me not languish then, and spend
A life as barren to thy praise
As is the dust, to which that life doth tend,
But with delaies.
All things are busie; only I
Neither bring hony with the bees,
Nor flowres to make that, nor the husbandrie
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