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Sweet Peace,
where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave,
Let me once
know.
I sought thee in a secret cave,
And ask'd,
if Peace were there,
A hollow wind did seem to
answer, No:
Go seek elsewhere.
I did; and going
did a rainbow note:
Surely, thought I,
This is the
lace of Peace's coat:
I will search out the matter.
But while I looked the clouds immediately
Did break
and scatter.
Then went I to a garden and did spy
A
gallant flower,
The crown-imperial: Sure, said I,
Peace at the root must dwell.
But when I digged, I
saw a worm devour
What showed so well.
At length I
met a rev'rend good old man;
Whom when for Peace
I
did demand, he thus began:
There was a Prince of old
At Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase
Of flock
and fold.
He sweetly lived; yet sweetness did not
save
His life from foes.
But after death out of
his grave
There sprang twelve stalks of wheat;
Which many wond'ring at, got some of those
To plant
and set.
It prospered strangely, and did soon
disperse
Through all the earth:
For they that
taste it do rehearse
That virtue lies therein;
A
secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth
By flight of
sin.
Take of this grain, which in my garden grows,
And grows for you;
Make bread of it: and that repose
And peace, which ev'ry where
With so much earnestness
you do pursue,
Is only there.
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