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

Abraham Cowley

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Abraham Cowley
Age: 49 †
Born: 1618
Born: January 1
Died: 1667
Died: July 28
Essayist
Playwright
Poet
Prosaist
the City
Sea
Land
Great
Beheld
Fled
Bondage
Almighty
Foreign
Israel

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Beauty, thou wild fantastic ape Who dost in every country change thy shape!
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Books should, not Business, entertain the Light And Sleep, as undisturb'd as Death, the Night.
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Why dost thou heap up wealth, which thou must quit, Or what is worse, be left by it? Why dost thou load thyself when thou 'rt to fly, Oh, man! ordain'd to die? Why dost thou build up stately rooms on high, Thou who art under ground to lie? Thou sow'st and plantest, but no fruit must see, For death, alas! is reaping thee.
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Happy insect! what can be In happiness compared to thee? Fed with nourishment divine, The dewy morning's gentle wine! Nature waits upon thee still, And thy verdant cup does fill 'Tis fill'd wherever thou dost tread, Nature's self's thy Ganymede.
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Life for delays and doubts no time does give, None ever yet made haste enough to live.
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Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?
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The present is an eternal now.
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To be a husbandman, is but a retreat from the city to be a philosopher, from the world or rather, a retreat from the world, as it is man's, into the world, as it is God's.
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Nothing so soon the drooping spirits can raise As praises from the men, whom all men praise.
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What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own?
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Awake, awake, my Lyre!And tell thy silent master's humble taleIn sounds that may prevailSounds that gentle thoughts inspire:Though so exalted sheAnd I so lowly beTell her, such different notes make all thy harmony.
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All the world's bravery that delights our eyes is but thy several liveries.
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For the whole world, without a native home, Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
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The Sunflow'r, thinking 'twas for him foul shame To nap by daylight, strove t' excuse the blame It was not sleep that made him nod, he said, But too great weight and largeness of his head.
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Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.
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The monster London laugh at me.
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Come, my best Friends! my Books! and lead me on.
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Hope is the most hopeless thing of all.
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The liberty of a people consists in being governed by laws which they have made themselves, under whatsoever form it be of government the liberty of a private man, in being master of his own time and actions, as far as may consist with the laws of God and of his country.
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Solitude can be used well by very few people. They who do must have a knowledge of the world to see the foolishness of it, and enough virtue to despise all the vanity.
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