Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE PILGRIM, by JOSEPH BEAUMONT

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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE PILGRIM, by            
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.


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?


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.


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.


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?


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!


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.

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