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 winde 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 lookt the clouds immediately Did break and scatter.
Then went I to a garden and did spy A gallant flower, The crown Imperiall:
Sure, said I, Peace at the root must dwell.
But when I digg'd,
I saw a worm devoure What show'd 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
At Salem dwelt, who liv'd with good increase Of flock and fold.
He sweetly lived; yet sweetnesse did not save His life from foes. But after death out of his grave There sprang twelve stalks of wheat:
Which many wondring at, got some of those To plant and set.
It prosper'd strangely, and did soon disperse Through all the earth: For they that taste it do rehearse, That vertue lies therein;
A secret vertue, bringing peace and mirth By flight of sinne.
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
With so much earnestnesse you do pursue Is onely there.
