Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE PILGRIM, by JOSEPH BEAUMONT First Line: Thanks, still encreasing turmoils; I Last Line: Then be possest by what I needs at length must leave. Subject(s): Christianity; Humility; Pilgrimages & Pilgrims | ||||||||
THANKS, still encreasing Turmoils; I Mistook you heertofore: But now I learn no more To chide with that Uncertainty Which hunts Me out in every Place, & tosses My settling Hopes through new disturbances & crosses. 2 I am content Life should with me Not play the Hypocrite By Baits of vain Delight And treacherous Stabilitie. Since all the Heavns are restless, why should I Desire with sordid Earth, in Quiet heer to ly? 3 Had I a fixed Home below, That stiff Temptation might My foolish Hart invite To hanker heer, & study how To plant my Self right deep & sure; whoe must Whither I will or no, alas, fall into Dust. 4 What though my Books & I be parted? I know all Freinds at last The parting Cup must taste. And now to me the World's converted Into one Library where I may read The mighty Leavs of Providence wide open spred. 5 Terrestrial Quiet I shall have More then enough, when I Sure & fast sealed ly In my deep silent Grave: Why should I plott & project how to be Aforehand buried in earthly Securitie? 6 Why should I wish to be at home, So long as I'm abroad? For what's Life but the Road By journying through which We come Unto our Fathers house: & happy We, Yf after all this journe We at home may be! 7 The Birds have Nests, the Foxes holes, But Heavns great Sonn had neither: And, tell me, hadst thou rather Live like the Foxes, & the Foules, Then like thy God; espetialy when He By's Providence to this brave Hardship lureth Thee. 8 Born in a borrowd house, & in A borrowd Cave interred, He first & last preferred What lazie Flesh & Blood doth shunn: He might have for his Palace heer had room, But scorned any Place but Heavn, to own for Home. 9 Blow then the worst of Blasts, & beat My Bark about the World; Still can I not be hurld Beyond ken of my Hav'n, nor meet One Place more distant then another, from The heavnly Port, to which alone I pant to come. 10 I pant to come; for what, what am I but a Stranger heer As all my Fathers were? Nor would I stay to learn & frame My Toung or Manners to this Countries guise, Which ne'r will suit with what's in fashion in the Skies. 11 But yf I must be thrown into Some seeming fixed Seat; So may I dwell in it, That it ne'r dwells in Me! O no; I rather heer would no Possessions have, Then be Possest by what I needs at length must leave. | Other Poems of Interest...THE HOURS; FOR INGRID ERHARDT, 1951-1971 by NORMAN DUBIE THE MOTHS: 1. CIRCA 1582 by NORMAN DUBIE THE MOTHS: 1. CIRCA 1952 by NORMAN DUBIE GOAL by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE PILGRIM by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE PILGRIM [SONG], FR. THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS by JOHN BUNYAN UP-HILL by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI AT ELLIS ISLAND by MARGARET LIVINGSTON CHANLER ALDRICH FAREWELL TO THE PILGRIMS by THEODORE M. BAKKE THE PILGRIM by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |
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