Top 15 Robert Southwell Quotes

English Jesuit and poet (1561–1595)

St. Robert Southwell (1561 – February 21 1595) was an English poet, a Jesuit priest, and a martyr for the Catholic faith. He was canonized in 1970.

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Alternative Names: Reverend Robert Southwell

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Similar: John Dryden 59.5% John Conington 59.1% Lord Byron 58.6% William Shakespeare 57.5% John Milton 56.9% Luís de Camões 56.5% Alfred Tennyson 56.3% Robert Browning 56.1% Thomas Moore 56.0% Thomas Hood 55.5%

Grant me grace, O God! that I
My life may mend, sith I must die.

Though all the East did quake to hear
Of Alexander's dreadful name,
And all the West did likewise fear
To hear of Julius Cæsar's fame.

Not Solomon, for all his wit,
Nor Samson, though he were so strong,
No king nor person ever yet
Could 'scape, but Death laid him along.

Before my face the picture hangs,
That daily should put me in mind
Of those cold names and bitter pangs,
That shortly I am like to find:
But yet, alas! full little I
Do think hereon that I must die.

When Fortune smiles, I smile to think
How quickly she will frown.

To rise by others' fall
I deem a losing gain;
All states with others' ruins built
To ruin run amain.

I feel no care of coin,
Well-doing is my wealth;
My mind to me an empire is,
While grace affordeth health.

My conscience is my crown,
Contented thoughts my rest;
My heart is happy in itself,
My bliss is in my breast. Enough I reckon wealth;
A mean the surest lot,
That lies too high for base contempt,
Too low for envy's shot.

The saddest birds a season find to sing,
The roughest storm a calm may soon allay;
Thus with succeeding turns God tempereth all,
That men may hope to rise yet fear to fall.

No joy so great but runneth to an end,
No hap so hard but may in fine amend.

Times go by turns and chances change by course,
From foul to fair, from better hap to worse.

My faultless breast the furnace is, the fuel wounding thorns;
Love is the fire and sighs the smoke, the ashes shame and scorns;
The fuel Justice layeth on, and Mercy blows the coals;
The metal in this furnace wrought are men's defiled souls.

As in hoary winter's night stood shivering in the snow,
Surprised I was with sudden heat which made my heart to glow;
And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near,
A pretty babe all burning bright did in the air appear.

This stable is a prince's court,
The crib his chair of state;
The beasts are parcel of his pomp,
The wooden dish his plate.

Behold a silly tender babe,
In freezing winter night,
In homely manger trembling lies;
Alas! a piteous sight.

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