Tixall Poetry.
261
A truth, that cannot stoope to a disguise,
But doth its native beautys higher prise;
And, void of the least art, more faire appeares
Than the most flatt'ring dyes that falsehood weares.
A goodness, with itselfe for ever strives
Whether it more obliges or forgives:
Does overpay all merit, and extend
Farther than any one can ere offend.
Which I arrest, till it that pardon grants,
Which my presumptuous folly so much wants;
That could such boundless excellence designe
In these poore narrow limits to confine.
But doth its native beautys higher prise;
And, void of the least art, more faire appeares
Than the most flatt'ring dyes that falsehood weares.
A goodness, with itselfe for ever strives
Whether it more obliges or forgives:
Does overpay all merit, and extend
Farther than any one can ere offend.
Which I arrest, till it that pardon grants,
Which my presumptuous folly so much wants;
That could such boundless excellence designe
In these poore narrow limits to confine.
PS. 120. V. 4.
Here our chief bliss is an uncertain joy,
Which swift vicissitudes of ill destroy.
Just as the sun, who, rising bright and gay,
In clouds and showers concludes the weeping day,
Which swift vicissitudes of ill destroy.
Just as the sun, who, rising bright and gay,
In clouds and showers concludes the weeping day,
