| I saw Eternity the other night, | |
| Like a great ring of pure and endless light, | |
| All calm, as it was bright; | |
| And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years, | |
| Driv'n by the spheres | 5 |
| Like a vast shadow mov'd; in which the world | |
| And all her train were hurl'd. | |
| The doting lover in his quaintest strain | |
| Did there complain; | |
| Near him, his lute, his fancy, and his flights, | 10 |
| Wit's sour delights, | |
| With gloves, and knots, the silly snares of pleasure, | |
| Yet his dear treasure | |
| All scatter'd lay, while he his eyes did pour | |
| Upon a flow'r. | 15 |
| |
| The darksome statesman hung with weights and woe, | |
| Like a thick midnight-fog mov'd there so slow, | |
| He did not stay, nor go; | |
| Condemning thoughts (like sad eclipses) scowl | |
| Upon his soul, | 20 |
| And clouds of crying witnesses without | |
| Pursued him with one shout. | |
| Yet digg'd the mole, and lest his ways be found, | |
| Work'd under ground, | |
| Where he did clutch his prey; but one did see | 25 |
| That policy; | |
| Churches and altars fed him; perjuries | |
| Were gnats and flies; | |
| It rain'd about him blood and tears, but he | |
| Drank them as free. | 30 |
| |
| The fearful miser on a heap of rust | |
| Sate pining all his life there, did scarce trust | |
| His own hands with the dust, | |
| Yet would not place one piece above, but lives | |
| In fear of thieves; | 35 |
| Thousands there were as frantic as himself, | |
| And hugg'd each one his pelf; | |
| The downright epicure plac'd heav'n in sense, | |
| And scorn'd pretence, | |
| While others, slipp'd into a wide excess, | 40 |
| Said little less; | |
| The weaker sort slight, trivial wares enslave, | |
| Who think them brave; | |
| And poor despised Truth sate counting by | |
| Their victory. | 45 |
| |
| Yet some, who all this while did weep and sing, | |
| And sing, and weep, soar'd up into the ring; | |
| But most would use no wing. | |
| O fools (said I) thus to prefer dark night | |
| Before true light, | 50 |
| To live in grots and caves, and hate the day | |
| Because it shews the way, | |
| The way, which from this dead and dark abode | |
| Leads up to God, | |
| A way where you might tread the sun, and be | 55 |
| More bright than he. | |
| But as I did their madness so discuss | |
| One whisper'd thus, | |
| "This ring the Bridegroom did for none provide, | |
| But for his bride." | 60 |