Astrologers, who calculate Uncertaine fate Affirme my scheme doth not presage Any abridgement of my dayes: And the Phisitian gravely sayes, I may enjoy a reverent length of age. But they are jugglers, and by slight Of art the sight Of faith delude: and in their schoole They onely practise how to make A mistery of each mistake, And teach strange words, credulity to foole. For thou who first didst motion give, Whereby things live And Time hath being! to conceale Future events didst thinke it fit To checke th' ambition of our wit, And keepe in awe the curious search of zeale. Therefore so I prepar'd still be, My God for thee: Oth' sudden on my spirits may Some killing Apoplexie seize, Or let me by a dull disease Or weakened by a feeble age decay. And so I in thy favour dye, No memorie For me a well-wrought tombe prepare, For if my soule be 'mong the blest Though my poore ashes want a chest, I shall forgive the trespasse of my heire. _Non nobis Domine._ DAVID. No marble statue, nor high Aspiring Piramid be rays'd To lose its head within the skie! What claime have I to memory? God be thou onely prais'd! Thou in a moment canst defeate The mighty conquests of the proude, And blast the laurels of the great. Thou canst make brightest glorie set Oth' sudden in a cloude. How can the feeble workes of Art Hold out 'gainst the assault of stormes? Or how can brasse to him impart Sence of surviving fame, whose heart Is now resolv'd to wormes? Blinde folly of triumphing pride! Æternitie why buildst thou here? Dost thou not see the highest tide Its humbled streame in th' Ocean hide, And nere the same appeare? That tide which did its banckes ore-flow, As sent abroad by the angry sea To levell vastest buildings low, And all our Trophies overthrow; Ebbes like a theefe away. And thou who to preserve thy name Leav'st statues in some conquer'd land! How will posterity scorne fame, When th' Idoll shall receive a maime, And loose a foote or hand? How wilt thou hate thy warres, when he Who onely for his hire did raise Thy counterfet in stone; with thee Shall stand Competitor: and be Perhapes thought worthier praise? No Laurell wreath about my brow! To thee, my God, all praise, whose law The conquer'd doth and conqueror bow! For both dissolve to ayre, if thou Thy influence but withdraw. _Solum mihi superest sepulchrum._ JOB. Welcome thou safe retreate! Where th' injured man may fortifie 'Gainst the invasions of the great: Where the leane slave, who th' Oare doth plye, Soft as his Admirall may lye.