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English cookbook, 1700
Page 14
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Tis night, & natures self in fables drest, While all her various families at rest, The busy Towns tumultuous Murmers o're, And chearfull humane voices heard no more, Silence & darkness all arround are spread, As in the lonely Mansions of the dead, Now by a glimering tapers feeble ray, Which hardly drives the sullen shades away, And round the room projects a short liv'd day From my divided eyes soft sleep I shake, And can without the watchman's call awake, Here on my couch oft wash'd with tears reclin'd, Thy Sacred work imploys my thoughtfull mind, Where I the secrets of thy will unfold, Revolving all thy wondrous works of old, Thus sooth my cares, nor can unhappy be, While fill'd with pleasing thoughts of Heaven & thee, 149 O with thy wonted goodnesse meet me there, Still guard my envied life, still hear my prayer. Preserve me from th' ungodlys fatall Snare, Who hunt my soul & presse it ah! too nigh, Who all the laws of earth & heaven defie, But though my faithfull my almighty friend, Art still [ne're] more nigh & still wilt me defend, Since as thyself thy words unchang'd & sure, And shall beyond the narrow bounds of time & age endure. 20 153 Think on the Mourner! O behold my grief, Exert thy power & speed thy kind relief, Since all my sorrow, all my weight of care, Nor tempts me to transgression, nor dispair,
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Tis night, & natures self in fables drest, While all her various families at rest, The busy Towns tumultuous Murmers o're, And chearfull humane voices heard no more, Silence & darkness all arround are spread, As in the lonely Mansions of the dead, Now by a glimering tapers feeble ray, Which hardly drives the sullen shades away, And round the room projects a short liv'd day From my divided eyes soft sleep I shake, And can without the watchman's call awake, Here on my couch oft wash'd with tears reclin'd, Thy Sacred work imploys my thoughtfull mind, Where I the secrets of thy will unfold, Revolving all thy wondrous works of old, Thus sooth my cares, nor can unhappy be, While fill'd with pleasing thoughts of Heaven & thee, 149 O with thy wonted goodnesse meet me there, Still guard my envied life, still hear my prayer. Preserve me from th' ungodlys fatall Snare, Who hunt my soul & presse it ah! too nigh, Who all the laws of earth & heaven defie, But though my faithfull my almighty friend, Art still [ne're] more nigh & still wilt me defend, Since as thyself thy words unchang'd & sure, And shall beyond the narrow bounds of time & age endure. 20 153 Think on the Mourner! O behold my grief, Exert thy power & speed thy kind relief, Since all my sorrow, all my weight of care, Nor tempts me to transgression, nor dispair,
Szathmary Culinary Manuscripts and Cookbooks
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