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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

VERSES BY THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH, GIVEN TO LORD HARINGTON, by                    
First Line: This is joy, this is true pleasure
Last Line: Be praise perpetually!
Alternate Author Name(s): Elizabeth, Princess


This is joy, this is true pleasure,
If we best things make our treasure,
And enjoy them at full leisure,
Evermore in richest measure.

God is only excellent,
Let up to Him our love be sent:
Whose desires are set or bent
On aught else, shall much repent.

Theirs is a most wretched case,
Who themselves so far disgrace,
That they their affections place
Upon things nam'd vile and base.

Let us love of heaven receive,
These are joys our hearts will heave
Higher than we can conceive,
And shall us not fail nor leave.

Earthly things do fade, decay.
Constant to us not one day:
Suddenly they pass away,
And we can not make them stay.

All the vast world doth contain,
To content man's heart, are vain,
That still justly will complain,
And unsatisfied remain.

God most holy, high and great,
Our delight doth make complete:
When in us he takes his seat,
Only then are we replete.

Why should vain joys us transport?
Earthly pleasures are but short,
And are mingled in such sort,
Griefs are greater than the sport.

And regard of this yet have,
Nothing can from death us save,
Then we must into our grave,
When we most are pleasure's slave.

By long use our souls will cleave
To the earth; then it we leave;
Then will cruel death bereave,
All the joys that we receive.

Thence they go to hellish flame,
Ever tortur'd in the same,
With perpetual blot of name,
Flout, reproach, and endless shame,

Torment not to be exprest,
But O then! how greatly blest,
Whose desires are whole addrest
To the heavenly things and best.

Thy affections shall increase
Growing forward without cease,
Even until thou diest in peace,
And enjoyest eternal ease.

When thy heart is fullest fraught
With heaven's love, it shall be caught
To the place it lov'd and sought,
Which Christ's precious blood hath bought.

Joys of those which there shall dwell,
No heart can think, no tongue can tell;
Wonderfully they excel,
Those thy soul will fully swell.

Are these things indeed even so?
Do I certainly them know,
And am I so much my foe,
To remain yet dull and slow?

Doth not that surpassing joy,
Ever freed from all annoy,
Me inflame? and quite destroy
Love of every earthly toy?

Oh, how frozen is my heart!
Oh, my soul! how dead thou art!
Thou, O God! we may impart,
Vain is human strength and art.

O my God! for Christ his sake,
Quite from me this dulness take;
Cause me earth's love to forsake,
And of heaven my realm to make.

If early thanks I render thee,
That thou hast enlightened me,
With such knowledge that I see
What things must behoveful be:

That I hereon meditate,
That desire, I find (though late)
To prize heaven at higher rate,
And these pleasures vain to hate.

O, enlighten more my sight,
And dispel my darksome night,
Good Lord, by thy heavenly light,
And thy beams most pure and bright.

Since in me such thoughts are scant,
Of thy grace impair my want,
Often meditations grant,
And in me more deeply plant.

Work of wisdom more desire,
Grant I may with holy ire
Slight the world, and me inspire
With thy love to be on fire.

What care I for lofty place,
If the Lord grant me his grace,
Shewing me his pleasant face,
And with joy I end my race.

This is only my desire,
This doth set my heart on fire,
That I might receive my hire,
With the saints' and angels' quire

O my soul of heavenly birth,
Do thou scorn this basest earth,
Place not here thy joy and mirth.
Where of bliss is greatest dearth.

From below thy mind remove,
And affect the things above:
Set thy heart and fix thy love
Where thou truest joys shalt prove.

If I do love things on high,
Doubtless them enjoy shall I,
Earthly pleasures if I try
They pursued faster fly.

O Lord! glorious, yet most kind,
Thou hast these thoughts put in my mind;
Let me grace increasing find,
Me to thee more firmly bind.

To God glory, thanks and praise,
I will render all my days,
Who has blest me many ways,
Shedding on me gracious rays.

To me grace, O Father! send,
On thee wholly to depend,
That all may to thy glory tend;
So let me live, so let me end.

Now to the true Eternal King,
Not seen with human eye,
The' immortal, only wise, true God,
Be praise perpetually!





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