Like to a lightning through the welkin hurled, _That scores with flames the way_, and every eye With terror dazzles as it swimmeth by. Here are six fine verses, in the heroic couplet, from _An Hymn of the Resurrection_. So a small seed that in the earth lies hid And dies--reviving bursts her cloddy side; Adorned with yellow locks, of new is born, And doth become a mother great with corn; Of grains bring hundreds with it, which when old Enrich the furrows with a sea of gold. But I must content myself now with a little madrigal, the only one fit for my purpose. Those which would best support what I have said of his music are not of the kind we want. Unfortunately, the end of this one is not equal to the beginning. CHANGE SHOULD BREED CHANGE. New doth the sun appear; The mountains' snows decay; Crowned with frail flowers comes forth the baby year. My soul, time posts away; And thou yet in that frost, Which flower and fruit hath lost, As if all here immortal were, dost stay! For shame! thy powers awake; Look to that heaven which never night makes black; And there, at that immortal sun's bright rays, Deck thee with flowers which fear not rage of days. CHAPTER XI. THE BROTHERS FLETCHER. I now come to make mention of two gifted brothers, Giles and Phineas Fletcher, both clergymen, the sons of a clergyman and nephews to the Bishop of Bristol, therefore the cousins of Fletcher the dramatist, a poem by whom I have already given Giles, the eldest, is supposed to have been born in 1588. From his poem _Christ's Victory and Triumph_, I select three passages. To understand the first, it is necessary to explain that while Christ is on earth a dispute between Justice and Mercy, such as is often represented by the theologians, takes place in heaven. We must allow the unsuitable fiction attributing distraction to the divine Unity, for the sake of the words in which Mercy overthrows the arguments of Justice. For the poet unintentionally nullifies the symbolism of the theologian, representing Justice as defeated. He forgets that the grandest exercise of justice is mercy. The confusion comes from the fancy that justice means _vengeance upon sin_, and not _the doing of what is right_. Justice can be at no strife with mercy, for not to do what is just would be most unmerciful. Mercy first sums up the arguments Justice has been employing against her, in the following stanza: He was but dust; why feared he not to fall? And being fallen how can he hope to live? Cannot the hand destroy him that made all? Could he not take away as well as give? Should man deprave, and should not God deprive? Was it not all the world's deceiving spirit (That, bladdered up with pride of his own merit, Fell in his rise) that him of heaven did disinherit? To these she then proceeds to make reply: