I saw Eternity the other night, Like a great ring of pure and endless light, All calm, as it was bright; And round beneath it, Time, in hours, days, years, Driven by the spheres, Like a vast shadow moved; In which the world And all her train were hurl'd. The doting Lover in his quaintest strain Did there complain; Near him, his lute, his fancy, and his slights [147] , Wit's sour [148] delights; With gloves and knots [149] , the silly snares of pleasure; Yet his dear treasure All scatter'd lay, while he his eyes did pour Upon a flower. The darksome Statesman [150] hung with weights and woe, Like a thick midnight-fog, moved there so slow, He did not stay, nor go; Condemning thoughts -- like sad eclipses -- scowl Upon his soul, And clouds of crying witnesses without Pursued him with one shout; Yet digg'd the mole, and lest his ways be found, Work'd under ground, Where he did clutch his prey; but One did see That policy; Churches and altars fed him; perjuries Were gnats and flies; It rain'd about him blood and tears, but he Drank them as free. The fearful Miser on a heap of rust Sate pining all his life there; did scarce trust His own hands with the dust; Yet would not place one piece above, but lives In fear of thieves: Thousands there were as frantic as himself, And hugg'd each one his pelf. The down-right Epicure placed heaven in sense, And scorn'd pretence; While others, slipt into a wide excess, Said little less; The weaker sort, slight, trivial wares enslave, Who think them brave [151] ; And poor, despiséd Truth sat counting by Their victory. Yet some, who all this while did weep and sing, And sing, and weep, soar'd up into the ring; But most would use no wing. O fools -- said I -- thus to prefer dark night Before true light! To live in grots, and caves, and hate the day Because it shews the way: -- The way, which from this dead and dark abode Leads up to GOD; A way where you might tread the Sun, and be More bright than he! But as I did their madness so discuss, One whisper'd thus, -- This ring the Bride-groom did for none provide, But for His Bride. Footnotes: [147] slights, sleights, tricks [148] sour, perhaps, unsatisfying [149] knots. ribbons [150] the Statesman, Pym's career, with O. Cromwell's by poetic insight, is here (1650) unquestionably photographed [151] brave, magnificent |