Page:The Temple (2nd ed) - George Herbert (1633).djvu/62

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
48
The Church.
The grosser world stands to thy word and art;
  But thy diviner world of grace
  Thou suddenly dost 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.


¶ 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 no verse, except enchanted groves
And sudden arbours shadow course-spunne lines?
Must purling streams refresh a lovers 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 mans nightingale or spring:
Nor let them punish me with losse of ryme,
  Who plainly say, My God, My King.

¶Employ-