35. The Retreate

HAPPY those early dayes! when I

Shin’d in my Angell-infancy.

Before I understood this place

Appointed for my second race,

Or taught my soul to fancy ought

But a white, Celestiall thought;

When yet I had not walkt above

A mile, or two, from my first love,

And looking back (at that short space,)

Could see a glimpse of his bright-face;

When on some gilded Cloud, or flowre

My gazing soul would dwell an houre,

And in those weaker glories spy

Some shadows of eternity;

Before I taught my tongue to wound

My Conscience with a sinfull sound,

Or had the black art to dispence

A sev’rall sinne to ev’ry sence,

But felt through all this fleshly dresse

Bright shootes of everlastingnesse.

O how I long to travell back

And tread again that ancient track!

That I might once more reach that plaine,

Where first I left my glorious traine,

From whence th’ Inlightned spirit sees

That shady City of Palme trees;

But (ah!) my soul with too much stay

Is drunk, and staggers in the way.

Some men a forward motion love,

But I by backward steps would move,

And when this dust falls to the urn

In that state I came return.