Abraham Cowley Quotes

The monster London laugh at me.

Ev'en Thou my breast with such blest rage inspire,
As mov'd the tuneful strings of Davids Lyre

Thus would I double my life's fading space;
For he that runs it well, runs twice his race.

I sing the Man who Judahs Scepter bore
In that right hand which held the Crook before;
Who from best Poet, best of Kings did grow;
The two chief gifts Heav'n could on Man bestow.

He saw the beauties of his shape and face,
His female sweetness, and his manly grace

Fond archer, Hope! who tak'st thy aim so far,
That still or short, or wide thine arrows are!

The thirsty earth soaks up the rain,
And drinks, and gapes for drink again;
The plants suck in the earth, and are
With constant drinking fresh and fair.

Why to mute fish should'st thou thyself discover
And not to me, thy no less silent lover?

A mighty pain to love it is,
And 't is a pain that pain to miss;
But of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain.

His time is forever, everywhere his place.

Well did he know how Palms by oppression speed,
Victorious, and the Victors sacred Meed!
The Burden lifts them higher. Well did he know,
How a tame stream does wild and dangerous grow
By unjust force; he now with wanton play,
Kisses the smiling Banks, and glides
But his known Channel stopt, begins to roare,
And swell with rage, and buffet the dull shore.
His mutinous waters hurry to the War,
And Troops of Waves come rolling from afar.
Then scorns he such weak stops to his free source,
And overruns the neighboring fields with violent course.

The fairest garden in her looks,
And in her mind the wisest books.

When Israel was from bondage led,
Led by the Almighty's hand
From out of foreign land,
The great sea beheld and fled.

Words that weep and tears that speak.

Awake, awake, my Lyre!
And tell thy silent master's humble tale
In sounds that may prevail;
Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire:
Though so exalted she
And I so lowly be
Tell her, such different notes make all thy harmony.