Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 53, by EDWARD TAYLOR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 53, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Were not my fancy stagnate, and the lake
Last Line: Thy praise shall be my glory sung in state.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


Were not my fancy stagnate, and the Lake
Of mine affections frozen ore with ice
And Spirits Crampt, or else Catochizate
The sweet breath'd smells the briezes of the Spice
My Theme doth vent, would raise such waves upon
The Sea of Eloquence, they'd skip thereon.

Shall I be lumpish when such lightsom showers
Of livning influences still on mee?
Shall I be lowring, when such lovely flowers
Spring smiling up, and Court mee too for thee?
When such heart liv'ning glances breake and fly
Out through the Sides of thy Authority?

Oh! that this, Thine Authority was made
A Golden Anvill: and my Contemplation
A Smiting Hammer: and my heart was laid
Thereon, and hammerd up for emendation.
And anvilld stoutly to a better frame
To entertain thy rayes that round the same.

Thou hast the golden key, that doth unlock,
The heart of God: Wisdoms bright Counsills Tower
All Power Prophetick This the boundless Stock
Of Gods Designs displayes in Gospell Shower.
These gleames may liven our dead Spirits then,
File bright our rusty brains, and sharpen them.

Thou nothing but the Will of God declarst.
And nothing less: For thine Authority
Should be abusd; if not improov'd, or spar'd.
If't more or less than Gods good Will descry.
This cannot be abusd: We therefore must
The Lesson learn then setst, and therein trust.

But here is still another gleame out breakes,
All Royall Power in heaven, and earth do lodge
In thee, my Lord, this thou wilt not out leake
Nor smoother up: it will not hast nor dodge.
A right to mannage all things: therefore thou
Wilt thine secure, and make thy foes down bow.

Thou Law deliverst: Thine Authority
Cannot be idle; nor exceed the right.
Hence such as will not with thy rule Comply,
Thou with thy iron Scepter down wilt smite.
This Power will raise the dead, and judge all too.
His own will Crown with Life. To hell foes throw.

Lord let thy Doctrine melt my Soule anew:
And let thy Scepter drill my heart in mee:
And let thy Spirits Cotters pierce it through
Like golden rivits, Clencht, mee hold to thee.
Then thou and I shall ne'er be separate.
Thy Praise shall be my Glory sung in state.





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