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ly distinguish, betwixt thy praise parùm injurius sim; et inter and my own. laudes tuas meique ipsius, prudenter discam distinguere.

On the flies gathering to a galled XXXI. De muscis ad equini dorsi recru

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descentis scabiem collectis.

Quàm frequentes ad misellæ hujus bestia saniosam plagam convolant muscæ; ibique sedent, purulentâ illâ carne se saginantes, reliquas saniores corporis partes ne attingentes quidem!

Sic planè faciunt invidæ detractorum linguæ: si vitiosi quid insit sive personæ cujusquam sive actionibus, istuc illico confluunt, huic insistunt; laude digna si qua sint et benè gesta, tacitè ista omnia negligenterque præterire solent. Invidiosa certè philautia, cum pusillanimi quâdam crudelitate conjuncta, pravam hanc in hominibus dispositionem progignit: hoc, interim, solùm reportant malevoli isti; Non potest non esse animal turpissimum, quod solâ sanie pascitur.

XXXII. Ad conspectum laternæ secreta quádam duplicatione obscurata. LUMEN inibi est; ita tamen prorsùs occlusum, ac si non omnino esset: ubi verò latus apertum ostenditur, sat luminis exhibetur dirigendo viæ duci qui laternam portat, alii præterea nemini: ipse alium facilè discernit, beneficio illius lucis, quæ sibi projicitur; alius verò illum interea discernere non potest.

THERE is light, indeed; but so shut up, as if it were not: and when the side is most open, there is light enough to give direction to him that bears it, none to others: he can discern another man, by that light, which is cast before him; but another man cannot discern him.

Right such is reserved knowledge: no man is the better for it, but the owner. There is no outward difference, betwixt concealed skill and ignorance: and, when such hidden knowledge

Talis omnino est reservata sibi scientia: nec, præter possessorem, quicquam cuiquam prodest. Inter celatam artem et ignorantiam, nullum externum discrimen est: et, ubi abscon

will look forth, it casts so sparing a light, as may only argue it to have an unprofitable being; to have ability, without will to good; power to censure, none to benefit. The suppression or engrossing of those helps, which God would have us to impart, is but a thief's lantern in a true man's hand.

O God, as all our light is from thee, the Father of Lights; so make me no niggard of that poor rush-candle, thou hast lighted in my soul: make me more happy, in giving light to others, than in receiving it into myself.

dita hujusmodi eruditio foras dignatur prospicere, ita parcè lumen emittit suum, quasi publicam utilitatem omnem prorsùs declinaret; exhiberetque facultatem quandam, absque omni benè agendi voluntate; censura ergò, potiùs quàm communis beneficii. Adminicula nempe illa, quæ Deus aliis communicata voluit, nobis suppressa clanculùm ac retenta, quid aliud sunt nisi hæc, quæ furum solet esse propria, laterna, honesti hospitis manu gestata?

O Deus, cùm à te, Patre Luminum, lux omnis nostra sit; fac ne sim junceæ illius candelulæ, quam in animâ meâ accendisti, avarus dispensator: fac sim aliis impertiendo lumen, quàm recipiendo, fœlicior.

On the hearing of a swallow in the XXXIII. Audito hirundinis cantu in camino

chimney.

HERE is music, such as it is; but how long will it hold? When but a cold morning comes in, my guest is gone, without either warning or thanks. This pleasant season hath the least need of cheerful notes: the dead of winter shall want, and wish them in vain.

Thus doth an ungrateful parasite: no man is more ready to applaud and enjoy our prosperity; but, when with the times our condition begins to alter, he is a stranger at least. Give me that bird, which will sing in winter, and seek to my window in the hardest frost. There is no trial of friendship, but adversity. He, that is not ashamed of my bonds, not daunted with my checks, not aliened with my disgrace, is a friend for

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me: one dram of that man's love, is worth a world of false and inconstant formality.

jicitur, nec alienatur contumeliis, ille mihi amicus esto: vel unus scrupulus amoris, quo me iste talis prosequitur, plus apud me valebit, quàm mille pondo inconstantis simulatæque professionis.

On the sight of a fly burning it- XXXIV. Conspectá muscâ quâdam lucernæ self in the candle.

WISE Solomon says, The light is a pleasant thing; and so, certainly, it is: but there is no true outward light which proceeds not from fire. The light of that fire then is not more pleasing, than the fire of that light is dangerous: and that pleasure doth not more draw on our sight, than that danger forbids our approach. How foolish is this fly, that, in a love and admiration of this light, will know no distance; but puts itself heedlessly into that flame, wherein it perishes! How many bouts it fetched, every one nearer than other, ere it made this last venture! and now that merciless fire, taking no notice of the affection of an over-fond client, hath suddenly consumed it.

Thus do those bold and busy spirits, who will needs draw too near unto that inaccessible light, and look into things too wonderful for them: so long do they hover about the secret counsels of the Almighty, till the wings of their presumptuous conceits be scorched; and their daring curiosity hath paid them with everlasting destruction.

O Lord, let me be blessed with the knowledge, of what thou hast revealed: let me content myself to adore thy Divine Wisdom, in what thou hast not re

flamma se comburente. Lux, inquit sapientissimus ille Solomon, jucunda res est; et, certè, sic nos facilè comperimus: attamen externum lumen nullum est, quod non ab igne proficiscitur. Lumen autem illius ignis non magis jucundum est, quàm ignis illius luminis periculosus: neque magis visum nostrum allicit illius voluptas, quàm hujus periculum approximationem vetat. tat. Quàm fatua est musca hæc, quæ, præ lucis amore ac admiratione, distantiæ tutamen nulla vel scire vel servare voluit; sed ingerit se temerè huic, quâ periit, flammæ! Per quot gyros, singulos singulis proximiores, ante ultimum hunc ausum, circuiit! nunc verò immitis flamma, parùm agnoscens blanduli clientis affectum, subitò illam absumpsit.

Ita faciunt curiosa illa et audacia ingenia, quæ ad lucem Divinæ Majestatis inaccessibilem propiùs quàm par est accedere non verentur, resque nimis altas stupendasque scrutari malunt: tam diu nempe isti secreta Omnipotentis consilia incautè circumvolitant, donec audentes animorum alæ comburantur; et ipsi, æternâ pernicie, insanam curiositatem luant.

Bea me, ô Deus, rerum illarum notitiâ, quæ tu revelare voluisti: contentus sim ego adorare Divinam Sapientiam tuam, in iis quæ parùm revelasti. Ita luce

vealed.

So let me enjoy thy tuâ fruar, ut ignem tuum interea light, that I may avoid thy fire.

evitem.

On the sight of a lark flying up. XXXV. Conspectâ alaudá sursum volitante.

How nimbly doth that little lark mount up, singing towards heaven, in a right line! whereas the hawk, which is stronger of body and swifter of wing, towers up, by many gradual compasses, to his highest pitch. That bulk of body, and length of wing, hinders a direct ascent; and requires the help, both of air and scope, to advance his flight; while that small bird cuts the air without resistance, and needs no outward furtherance of her motion.

It is no otherwise with the souls of men, in flying up to their heaven. Some are hindered by those powers, which would seem helps, to their soaring up thither great wit, deep judgment, quick apprehension, send men about, with no small labour, for the recovery of their own incumbrance; while the good affections of plain and simple souls raise them up immediately to the fruition of God. Why should we be proud of that, which may slacken our way to glory? Why should we be disheartened with the small measure of that, the very want whereof may (as the heart may be affected) facilitate our way to happiness?

Quàm agili celerique pennâ pusilla hæc alauda, rectâ quidemlineâ, cœlum versus cantillans ascendit! ubi accipiter, cui robur corporis majus et ala celerior, per multas circumgyrationes, ascensus sui fastigium gradatim tandem assequitur. Nempe illa corporis moles alarumque longitudo impedimento sunt, quo minùs rectà possit ascendere; quandoquidem istud, et aliquod aeris adminiculum et idoneum volatui promovendo spatium, requirat; ubi minima illa avicula absque omni reluctatione aërem liberè findit, nec quo indiget externo motûs sui adju

mento.

Nec se habet aliter cum hominum animabus, cœlum suum repetentibus. Non desunt, quæ suis iisdem facultatibus, quibus accelerari posse videretur fœlix hic cursus, haud parùm retardantur: ingenium fortasse igneum, profundum judicium, apprehensio facilis, ita nimis multos præpediit, ut necesse illis fuerit, suam ipsorum remorationem, non parvo labore, redimere; ubi boni adfectus honestas simplicesque animas immediatè evehunt ad suum cœlum, Deoque liberè frui jubent. Quorsum verò efferri nos patimur illis dotibus, quæ nostram ad gloriam iter retardare possunt? Quorsum, è contrà, dejicimur tenuitate aut paucitate donorum illorum, quorum absentia (quæ cordis nostri esse potest affectio) ad beatitudinem facilitare nobis viam potest?

On the singing of the birds in a XXXVI. Auditis aviculis verno quodam mare

spring morning

How cheerfully do these little birds chirp and sing, out of the natural joy they conceive, at the approach of the sun and entrance of the spring; as if their life had departed, and returned with those glorious and comfortable beams!

No otherwise is the penitent and faithful soul affected to the true Sun of Righteousness, the Father of Lights. When he hides his face, it is troubled, and silently mourns away that sad winter of affliction: when he returns, in his presence is the fulness of joy; no song is cheerful enough, to welcome him.

O thou, who art the God of all Consolation, make my heart sensible of the sweet comforts of thy gracious presence; and let my mouth ever shew forth thy praise.

On a coal covered with ashes.

cantillantibus.

Quàm alacriter modulantur hæ aviculæ ac cantillant, præ nativo quodam gaudio, quod, appropinquante jam sole vereque novo intrante, conceperunt; quasi vita ipsarum et discessisset unà, et unà etiam cum beneficiis illis radiis rediisset!

Vero Justitiæ Sole, Patre Luminum, non aliter afficitur anima fidelis pœnitensque. Ubi ille faciem suam abscondit, gravissimè perturbatur, tristemque af flictionis tanta hyemen silenti quodam planctu consumit: ubi ille tandem redierit, in presentiâ ejus plenitudo est gaudii; nulla satis alacris est cantilena, quâ illi reduci gratulemur.

O tu, qui Consolationis omnis Deus es, inde cordi meo sensum suavissimarum delectationum dulcissimæ præsentiæ tuæ; facitoque ut os meum laudem tuam canorè eloquatur.

XXXVII.

NOTHING appears in this heap, but dead ashes: here is neither light, nor smoke, nor heat; and yet, when I stir up these embers to the bottom, there are found some living gleeds, which do both contain fire, and are apt to propagate it.

Many a Christian's breast is like this hearth. No life of grace appears there, for the time; either to his own sense, or to the apprehension of others: while the season of temptation lasteth, all seems cold and dead: yet still, at the worst, there is a secret coal from the altar of

Ad conspectum prunæ cineribus cooperta. IN cumulo hoc toto nihil quicquam apparet, præter meras favillas: neque lux istic est, neque fumus, nec calor; et tamen, ubi excito hosce cineres, vivi quidam carbones inibi reperiuntur, qui ignem et continent, et propagare apti sunt.

Non pauca Christianorum pectora instar foci hujusce sunt. Nulla, pro tempore, in illis gratiæ vita apparet; sive sensui suo, sive judicio aliorum: durante tentationis impetu, frigida videntur omnia planèque emortua: adhuc tamen, ubi pessimo in statu res ipsorum sunt, prunæ

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