Henry Vaughan[7622-/695]Beyond the Veil
¶THEY are all gone into the world of lightlAnd I alone sit lingering here;Their very memory is fair and bright,And my sad thoughts doth clear.
¶It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast,Like stars upon some gloomy grove,Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest,After the sun's remove.
¶I see them walking in an air of glory,Whose light doth trample on my days;My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,Mere glimmerings and decays.
¶O holy Hope , and high Humility,High as the heavens above!These are your walks, and you have showed them meTo kindle my cold love.[347]Dear, beauteous Death! the jewel of the just,Shining nowhere but in the dark,What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,Could Man outlook that mark!
¶He that hath found some fledged bird's nest, may knowAt first sight, if the bird be flown;But what fair well or grove he sings in now,That is to him unknown .
¶And yet, as Angels in some brighter dreamsCall to the soul when man doth sleep,So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes,And into glory peep.
¶If a star were confined into a tomb,Her captive flames must needs burn there;But when the hand that locked her up, gives room,She'll shine through all the sphere.
¶O Father of eternal life, and allCreated glories under Thee !Resume Thy spirit from this world of thrallInto true liberty.
¶Either disperse these mists, which blot and fillMy perspective still, as they pass;Or else remove me hence unto that hillWhere I shall need no glass.
The Retreat
¶HAPPY those early days, when IShined in my Angel-infancy!Before I understood this placeAppointed for my second race,Or taught my soul to fancy aughtBut a white, celestial thought;When yet I had not walk'd aboveA mile or two from my first Love ,And looking back, at that short space
Francis Bacon
¶Could see a glimpse of his bright face;When on some gilded cloud or flowerMy gazing soul would dwell an hour,And in those weaker glories spySome shadows of eternity;Before I taught my tongue to woundMy conscience with a sinful sound,Or had the black art to dispenseA several sin to every sense,But felt through all this fleshly dressBright shoots of everlastingness.
¶O how I long to travel back,And tread again that ancient track!That I might once more reach that plainWhere first I left my glorious train;From whence th' enlighten'd spirit seesThat shady City of Palm trees!But ah! my soul with too much stayIs drunk, and staggers in the way : —Some men a forward motion love,But I by backward steps would move;And when this dust falls to the urn,In that state I came, return.