S. HIERON. in Ep.

No labor is hard, no time is long, wherein the glory of eternity is the mark we level at.

S. GREG. Lib. viii. Mor.

The valour of a just man is, to conquer the flesh, to contradict his own will, to quench the delights of the present life, to love and endure the miseries of this world for the reward of a better, to contemn the flatteries of prosperity and inwardly to overcome the fears of adversity.

EPIG. 11.

O Cupid, if thy smoother way were right,
I should mistrust this crown were counterfeit.
The way's not easy, where the prize is great:
I hope no virtues, where I smell no sweat.

GALAT.

'Tis thus alone, Security we prove;

While on the blessed Crofs we restour Love.

XII.

GALAT. vi. 14.

God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross.

1.

AN nothing settle my uncertain breast,

CAN

And fix my rambling love? Can my affections find out nothing best,

But still and still remove?

Has earth no mercy? Will no ark of rest

Is there no good,

With joys that

Receive my restless dove?
than which there's nothing high'r,
To bless my full desire

never change; with joys that ne'er

2.

I wanted wealth; and, at my dear request,

Earth lent a quick supply;

I wanted mirth, to charm my sullen hreast;

[expire?

And who more brisk than I?

I wanted fame, to glorify the rest;

My fame flew eagle-high:

My joy not fully ripe, but all decay'd,

Wealth vanish'd like a shade;

My mirth began to flag, my fame began to fade.

3.

The world's an ocean, hurry'd to and fro

With ev'ry blast of passion:

Her lustful streams, when either ebb or flow,

Are tides of man's vexation :

Ther

They alter daily, and they daily grow

The worse by alteration :

The earth's a cask full-tunn'd, yet wanting measure; Her precious wine is pleasure;

Her yest* is honor's puff; her leest are worldly trea[sure.

4.

My trust is in the cross : let beauty flag

Her loose, her wanton sail ;

Let count'nance-gilding honor cease to brag

In courtly terms, and vail;

Let ditch-bred wealth henceforth forget to wag

Her base, though golden tail;

False beauty's conquest is but real loss,

And wealth but golden dross; Best honor's but a blast: my trust is in the cross.

5.

My trust is in the cross; there lies my rest :
My fast, my sole delight:

Let cold-mouth'd Boreas, or the hot-mouth'd East,
Blow till they burst with spite;

Let earth and hell conspire their worst, their best,

And join their twisted might;

Let show'rs of thunderbolts dart round and wound me, And troops of fiends surround me, All this may well confront; all this shall ne'er con

[found me.

* Yest, or yeast; barm used for the fermentation of liquors.

Lees, the settlement, or dregs at bottom.

S. AUG