Identifier: francisquarlesem00quar (find matches)
Title: Francis Quarles' Emblems and : Hieroglyphics of the life of man, modernized : in four books
Year: 1773 (1770s)
Authors: Quarles, Francis, 1592-1644
Subjects: Emblems --Early works to 1800 Emblem books, English --Great Britain --England --18th century Emblem books --Great Britain --England --18th century
Publisher: London : Printed for J. Cooke, at Shakespear’s Head, in Pater-Noster-Row
Contributing Library: University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign

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MY Troubles mulitiply, And Sorrow is my Lot; There's nothing that I hear or see, But grieves my vexed Thought. Pleasures, which Men pursue With so much Eagerness, Have Stings, which ever make them rue, And poison all their Bliss. Riches and Honours have Each their Anxiety ; From Pain and Labour, Death and Grave, No Man can say, he's free. The MORAL. How sad and tiresome is the World to him. Who on a Life to come has built his Scheme ! How dead and tasteless are the Joys that greet His alter'd Fancy ; — he has found the Cheat. Grandeur and Riches, and such costly Things, He puits unenvy'd to the Great and Kings, With all the Guilt and Trouble them attend, With these he'll not his better Treasures blend. Sorrows and Cares, in ev'ry Thing he feels, And ev'ry Object has it's lurking Ills, Temptations from without in Ambush wait, And Lusts within still snapping at the Bait : All, all combine to vex and tire him out, 'Till Death shall come, and all their Forces rout. [142] XXXXXXXXX:XXXXXXXXXXX EMBLEM VIII.
Text Appearing After Image:
O with what Diligence and Care These dainty Bodies we repair ! Yet a few Years when come and gone, Grim Death will strip us Skin from Bone. [143] EMBLEM VIII. Man is Death's Prisoner. SEE for what End we feed and clothe, Cherish and pamper, please and soothe These Bodies made of Clay ; Death's Prisoner is ev'ry Man, E'er since Mortality began. And Adam was his Prey. Thus over Man the Tyrant reigns, And proudly all Controul disdains All Creatures him obey ; Yet, Monster, know the Time will come, That shall decide thy final Doom, And end thy cruel Sway. The MORAL. Sin was the prime Orignal of Death, Which reign'd e'er since Man forfeited his Breath: His Tyranny continues still as great, And vaunts his Power is deriv'd from Fate ; Strengthen'd by Sin, and domineering Lust, Thousands reduces daily to the Dust, Of craving, carnal Appetites possess'd, With Nature's choicest Cates we are unblessed. With these we do our pamper'd Bodies feed. Yet these are Death's most fructifying Seed. But Death, how terrible soe'er he seem, And arm'd with Terrors, horrible and grim, Yet is the pious Christian's trusty Friend, And will Relief from all his Evils send ; Opens the Gate to everlasting Bliss, Where Sin no more the happy Soul shall teaze.

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