THOMAS HEYWOOD.

THOMAS HEYWOOD was a remarkable instance of the prolific genius of the dramatists of the age of Elizabeth and James I. In the preface to one of his publications, he claims to be the author, entirely or in part, of no less than two hundred and twenty plays; the greater number of which are lost; but a list of twenty-four, still extant, is given in Cibber's Lives of the Poets. He left other works-as the "Life of Queen Elizabeth," the "General History of Women," and the "Hierarchy of the Angels." It is from this last, a long, and, upon the whole, tedious poem, but not without powerful and even sublime passages, that the pieces which follow are extracted.

THOMAS HEYWOOD.

SEARCH AFTER GOD.

I SOUGHT thee round about, O thou my God!
In thine abode.

I said unto the earth, "Speak, art thou he?"
She answer'd me,

"I am not.”—I enquired of creatures all,

In general,

Contain❜d therein;-they with one voice proclaim, That none amongst them challenged such a name.

I ask'd the seas, and all the deeps below,
My God to know.

I ask'd the reptiles, and whatever is
In the abyss;

Even from the shrimp to the leviathan
Enquiry ran:

But in those deserts which no line can sound,
The God I sought for was not to be found.

I ask'd the air, if that were he? but,
It told me No.

I from the towering eagle to the wren,
Demanded then,

If any feather'd fowl 'mongst them were such?
But they all, much

Offended with my question, in full quire,

Answered," To find thy God thou must look higher."

I ask'd the heavens, sun, moon, and stars, but they Said, "We obey

The God thou seek'st."-I ask'd, what eye or ear
Could see or hear;

What in the world I might descry or know
Above, below:

-With an unanimous voice, all these things said,

"We are not God, but we by him were made.”

I ask'd the world's great universal mass,
If that God was?

Which with a mighty and strong voice replied,
As stupified,

I am not he, O man! for know that I,

By him on high,

Was fashion'd first of nothing, thus instated,
And sway'd by him, by whom I was created."

I sought the court; but smooth-tongued flattery there

Deceived each ear:

In the throng'd city there was selling, buying, Swearing, and lying;

I' the country, craft in simpleness array'd:

And then I said,

"Vain is my search, although my pains be great

Where my God is there can be no deceit."

A scrutiny within myself I, then,

Even thus began :

“O man, what art thou ?”—What more could I

Than dust and clay ?

Frail, mortal, fading, a mere puff, a blast,
That cannot last;

Enthroned to-day, to-morrow in an urn;
Form'd from that earth to which I must return.

I ask'd myself, what this great God might be
That fashion'd me?

I answer'd the all-potent, solely immense,
Surpassing sense;

Unspeakable, inscrutable, eternal,
Lord over all;

The only terrible, strong, just, and true,
Who hath no end, and no beginning knew.

He is the well of life, for he doth give
To all that live,

Both breath and being: he is the Creator
Both of the water,

say,

Earth, air, and fire. Of all things that subsist,
He hath the list;

Of all the heavenly host, or what earth claims,
He keeps the scroll, and calls them by their names.

And now, my God, by thine illumining grace,
Thy glorious face,

(So far forth as it may discover'd be,)

Methinks I see;

And though invisible and infinite,

To human sight,

Thou, in thy mercy, justice, truth, appearest; In which to our weak senses thou comest nearest.