Resolution
the Song of Hylobaris concerning Divine Providence
W HERE'S now the object of thy fears;
Needless sighs and fruitless tears?
They be all gone like idle dream
Suggested from the body's steam.
O cave of horror black as pitch!
Dark den of spectres that bewitch
The weaken'd fancy, sore affright
With the grim shades of grisly night.
What's plague and prison? Loss of friends?
War, dearth, and death that all things ends?
Mere bug-bears for the childish mind:
Pure panic terrors of the blind.
Collect thy soul into one sphere
Of light, and 'bove the earth it rear:
Those wild scatter'd thoughts that erst
Lay loosely in the world dispersed
Call in: thy spirit thus knit in one
Fair lucid orb; those fears be gone
Like vain impostures of the night
That fly before the morning bright.
Then with pure eyes thou shalt behold
How the first Goodness doth infold
All things in loving tender arms:
That deemed mischiefs are no harms,
But sovereign salves, and skilful cures
Of greater woes the world endures;
That man's stout soul may win a state
Far raised above the reach of Fate.
Then wilt thou say, God rules the world,
Though mountain over mountain hurl'd
Be pitch'd amid the foaming main,
Which busy winds to wrath constrain.
His fall doth make the billows start
And backward skip from every part,
Quite sunk; then o'er his senseless side
The waves in triumph proudly ride.
Though inward tempests fiercely rock
The tottering earth, that with the shock
High spires and heavy rocks fall down
With their own weight drove into ground;
Though pitchy blasts from Hell up-borne
Stop the outgoings of the morn,
And nature play her fiery games
In this forced night, with fulgurant flames,
Baring by fits for more affright
The pale dead visages, ghastly sight
Of men astonish'd at the stoure
Of Heaven's great rage, the rattling showers
Of hail, the hoarse bellowing of thunder,
Their own loud shrieks made mad with wonder:
All this confusion cannot move
The purged mind, freed from the love
Of commerce with her body dear,
Cell of sad thoughts, sole spring of fear.
Whate'er I feel or hear or see
Threats but these parts that mortal be.
Nought can the honest heart dismay
Unless the love of living clay,
And long acquaintance with the light
Of this out-world, and what to sight
Those too officious beams discover
Of forms that round about us hover.
Power, Wisdom, Goodness sure did frame
This Universe, and still guide the same.
But thoughts from passions sprung, deceive
Vain mortals. No man can contrive
A better course than what's been run
Since the first circuit of the sun.
He that beholds all from on high
Knows better what to do than I.
I'm not mine own: should I repine
If He dispose of what's not mine?
Purge but thy soul of blind self-will,
Thou straight shalt see God doth no ill.
The world He fills with the bright rays
Of His free goodness. He displays
Himself throughout. Like common air
That spirit of life through all doth fare.
Suck'd in by them as vital breath
That willingly embrace not death.
But those that with that living law
Be unacquainted, cares do gnaw;
Mistrust of God 's good providence
Doth daily vex their wearied sense.
W HERE'S now the object of thy fears;
Needless sighs and fruitless tears?
They be all gone like idle dream
Suggested from the body's steam.
O cave of horror black as pitch!
Dark den of spectres that bewitch
The weaken'd fancy, sore affright
With the grim shades of grisly night.
What's plague and prison? Loss of friends?
War, dearth, and death that all things ends?
Mere bug-bears for the childish mind:
Pure panic terrors of the blind.
Collect thy soul into one sphere
Of light, and 'bove the earth it rear:
Those wild scatter'd thoughts that erst
Lay loosely in the world dispersed
Call in: thy spirit thus knit in one
Fair lucid orb; those fears be gone
Like vain impostures of the night
That fly before the morning bright.
Then with pure eyes thou shalt behold
How the first Goodness doth infold
All things in loving tender arms:
That deemed mischiefs are no harms,
But sovereign salves, and skilful cures
Of greater woes the world endures;
That man's stout soul may win a state
Far raised above the reach of Fate.
Then wilt thou say, God rules the world,
Though mountain over mountain hurl'd
Be pitch'd amid the foaming main,
Which busy winds to wrath constrain.
His fall doth make the billows start
And backward skip from every part,
Quite sunk; then o'er his senseless side
The waves in triumph proudly ride.
Though inward tempests fiercely rock
The tottering earth, that with the shock
High spires and heavy rocks fall down
With their own weight drove into ground;
Though pitchy blasts from Hell up-borne
Stop the outgoings of the morn,
And nature play her fiery games
In this forced night, with fulgurant flames,
Baring by fits for more affright
The pale dead visages, ghastly sight
Of men astonish'd at the stoure
Of Heaven's great rage, the rattling showers
Of hail, the hoarse bellowing of thunder,
Their own loud shrieks made mad with wonder:
All this confusion cannot move
The purged mind, freed from the love
Of commerce with her body dear,
Cell of sad thoughts, sole spring of fear.
Whate'er I feel or hear or see
Threats but these parts that mortal be.
Nought can the honest heart dismay
Unless the love of living clay,
And long acquaintance with the light
Of this out-world, and what to sight
Those too officious beams discover
Of forms that round about us hover.
Power, Wisdom, Goodness sure did frame
This Universe, and still guide the same.
But thoughts from passions sprung, deceive
Vain mortals. No man can contrive
A better course than what's been run
Since the first circuit of the sun.
He that beholds all from on high
Knows better what to do than I.
I'm not mine own: should I repine
If He dispose of what's not mine?
Purge but thy soul of blind self-will,
Thou straight shalt see God doth no ill.
The world He fills with the bright rays
Of His free goodness. He displays
Himself throughout. Like common air
That spirit of life through all doth fare.
Suck'd in by them as vital breath
That willingly embrace not death.
But those that with that living law
Be unacquainted, cares do gnaw;
Mistrust of God 's good providence
Doth daily vex their wearied sense.
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