Dear, beauteous Death! the jewel of the Just, Shining nowhere, but in the dark; What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, Could man outlook that mark! He that hath found some fledg’d bird’s nest may know, At first sight, if the bird be flown; But what fair well or grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown. And yet as Angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul, when man doth sleep: So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, And into glory peep. If a star were confin’d into a tomb, Her captive flames must needs burn there; But when the hand that lock’d her up gives room, She’ll shine through all the sphere. O Father of eternal life, and all Created glories under Thee! Resume Thy spirit from this world of thrall Into true liberty. Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill My perspective still as they pass: Or else remove me hence unto that hill, Where I shall need no glass. JOHN BUNYAN 1628-1688 _366._ _The Shepherd Boy sings in the Valley of Humiliation_ He that is down needs fear no fall, He that is low, no pride; He that is humble ever shall Have God to be his guide. I am content with what I have, Little be it or much: And, Lord, contentment still I crave, Because Thou savest such. Fullness to such a burden is That go on pilgrimage: Here little, and hereafter bliss, Is best from age to age. BALLADS AND SONGS BY UNKNOWN AUTHORS _367._ _Thomas the Rhymer_ True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank; A ferlie he spied wi’ his e’e; And there he saw a ladye bright Come riding down by the Eildon Tree. Her skirt was o’ the grass-green silk, Her mantle o’ the velvet fyne; At ilka tett o’ her horse’s mane, Hung fifty siller bells and nine. True Thomas he pu’d aff his cap, And louted low down on his knee: ‘Hail to thee, Mary, Queen of Heaven! For thy peer on earth could never be.’ ‘O no, O no, Thomas,’ she said, ‘That name does not belang to me; I’m but the Queen o’ fair Elfland, That am hither come to visit thee. ‘Harp and carp, Thomas,’ she said; ‘Harp and carp along wi’ me; And if ye dare to kiss my lips, Sure of your bodie I will be.’ ferlie] marvel. tett] tuft, lock. harp and carp] play and recite (as a minstrel). ‘Betide me weal, betide me woe, That weird shall never daunten me.’ Syne he has kiss’d her rosy lips, All underneath the Eildon Tree. ‘Now ye maun go wi’ me,’ she said, ‘True Thomas, ye maun go wi’ me; And ye maun serve me seven years, Thro’ weal or woe as may chance to be.’