|
OF |
|
THE PROGRESSE |
|
OF THE SOULE. |
|
The second Anniversarie. |
|
Nothing could make me sooner to confesse |
That this world had an everlastingnesse, |
Then to consider, that a yeare is runne, |
Since both this lower world's, and the Sunnes Sunne, |
The Lustre, and the vigor of this all, |
Did set; 'twere blasphemie to say, did fall. |
But as a ship which hath strooke saile, doth runne |
By force of that force which before, it wonne: |
Or as sometimes in a beheaded man, |
Though at those two Red seas, which freely ranne, |
One from the Trunke, another from the Head, |
His soule he sail'd, to her eternall bed, |
His eyes will twinckle, and his tongue will roll, |
As though he beckned, and cal'd backe his soule, |
He graspes his hands, and he pulls up his feet, |
And seemes to reach, and to step forth to meet |
His soule; when all these motions which we saw, |
Are but as Ice, which crackles at a thaw:
|
[CW:Or] |