Retirement.

WHo on yon throne of Azure sits,
Keeping close house
Above the morning-starre,
Whose meaner showes,
And outward utensils these glories are
That shine and share
Part of his mansion; He one day
When I went quite astray
Out of meer love
By his mild Dove
Did shew me home, and put me in the way.

Let it suffice at length thy fits
And lusts (said he,)
Have had their wish, and way;
Presse not to be
Still thy own foe, and mine; for to this day
I did delay,
And would not see, but chose to wink,
Nay, at the very brink
And edge of all
When thou wouldst fall
My love-twist held thee up, my unseen link.

I know thee well; for I have fram'd
And hate thee not,
Thy spirit too is mine;
I know thy lot,
Extent, and end, for my hands drew the line
Assigned thine;
If then thou would'st unto my seat,
'Tis not th'applause, and feat
Of dust, and clay
Leads to that way,
But from those follies a resolv'd Retreat.

Now here below where yet untam'd
Thou doest thus rove
I have a house as well
As there above,
In it my Name, and honour both do dwell
And shall untill
I make all new; there nothing gay
In perfumes, or Array,
Dust lies with dust
And hath but just
The same Respect, and room, with ev'ry clay.

A faithful school where thou maist see
In Heraldrie
Of stones, and speechless Earth
Thy true descent;
Where dead men preach, who can turn feasts, and mirth
To funerals, and Lent.
There dust that out of doors might fill
Thy eies, and blind thee still,
Is fast asleep;
Up then, and keep
Within those doors, (my doors) dost hear? I will.