Oct. 16. 1852.] 



NOTES AND QUERIES. 



369 



to arrive ; and in which, as impossible for him when 

 once arrived, not fully to acquiesce." — Pp. 208, 209. 



See also " The Prayer'" which follows the last 

 extract (^Collection of Miscellanies, 6th edit., 

 London, 1717). 



One of your correspondents, I think, has already 

 quoted the stanza commencing — 



" Our life's a flying shadow, God Is the pole, 

 The needle pointing to Him is our soul." 



which I have seen on a loose slab in Bp. Joceline's 

 crypt in Glasgow Cathedral. 



To the above passage from Norris, I may add 

 the beautiful lines of Quarles : 



" Even as the needle that directs the hour, 

 (Touch'd with the loadstone) by the secret power 

 Of hidden Nature, points upon the pole; 

 Even so the wavering powers of my soul, 

 Touch'd by the virtue of Thy Spirit, flee 

 From what is earth, and point alone to Thee." 



Job Mil, Med. iv. 



Mr. Headley, from whom I derived this extract, 

 adds: 



" In the beautiful song of ' Sweet William's Fare- 

 well,' the sailor, with great propriety, adopts a nautical 

 term from his own art : 



* Change as ye list, ye winds : my heart shall be 

 The faithful compass that still points to Thee.' " 



Commenting on Heb. iii. 12., Gregorie says : 



" That hard heart of unbelief which we are bid here 

 to take heed of, looseth all our hold, and utterly 

 estrangeth us from the life of God, and leaveth us alto- 

 gether without Him in the world. Our other back- 

 slidings and variations from Him, how wide and distant 

 soever, yet may be thought to be but like those of the 

 compass, more or less, according to a less or greater 

 interposition of earthly-mindedness : but this is like to 

 that of the magnet itself, which, while it lieth couched 

 in the mineral, and united to the rock, it conformeth 

 to the nature and verticity of the earth ; but separate 

 it from thence, and give it free scope to move in the 

 air, and it will desperately forsake its former and more 

 publick instinct, and turn to a quite contrary point. 

 So long as a man is fastened to the rock Christ, and 

 keepeth but any hold there, he will still be looking less 

 or more towards the Author and Finisher of his faith ; 

 but broken off once from thence, and beginning to be 

 in the open air, and under the Prince of that, he ap- 

 parently turneth aside from the living God, and pointeth 

 to a pole of his own." — Gregorie's Works, Lond. 1684, 

 chap, xxxvii. ; see also chap. xii. 



Jarltzb£Bg. 



The examples already given of "Similes founded 

 on the Magnetic Needle " recalled to my recollec- 

 tion one which I have always thought very beau- 

 tifully elaborated. It is in Quai-les' Emblems, — a 

 writer of whom Mr. Wilmott says {Lives of Sacred 

 Poets) that " he will live in spite of the Dunciad." 

 Of the Emblems he also says that it "contains 



several poems of uncommon excellence and ori- 

 ginality." The poem of which I subjoin a part 

 is justly entitled to this commendation, provided 

 Quarles did not steal the idea from Jeremy Taylor. 

 They were cotemporaries, — at least the former 

 died in 1644, the latter in 1667 ; and it is not 

 unlikely that they were acquainted with each 

 other's writings. I am not aware when the ser- 

 mon from which the quotation is made was first 

 printed : my edition of Quarles is, I believe, the 

 original edition ; but it is without date, though 

 some commendatory verses prefixed are dated 

 1634. 



" Like to the Arctick needle that doth guide 



The wand'ring shade by his magnetick power. 

 And leaves his silken gnomon to decide 



The question of the controverted hour. 

 First franticks up and down, from side to side, 



And restless beats his crystal'd iv'ry case 



With vain impatience ; jets from place to place, 

 And seeks the bosoms of his frozen bride : 



At length he slacks his motion, and doth rest 

 His trembling point at his bright Pole's beloved 

 breast. 

 " E'en so my soul, being hurried here and there, 



By ev'ry object that presents delight, 

 Fain would be settled, but she knows not where ; 



She likes at morning what she loaths at night : 

 She bows to honour ; then she lends an ear 



To that sweet swan-like voice of dying pleasure. 



Then tumbles in the scatter'd heaps of treasure ; 

 Now flatter'd with false hope ; now foyl'd with fear: 



Thus finding all the world's delight to be 

 But empty toys, good God, she points alone to thee. 



" But hath the virtued steel a power to move ? 



Or can the untouch'd needle point aright? 

 Or can my wand'ring thoughts forbear to rove, 



Unguided by the virtue of thy sp'rit ? 

 O hath my leaden soul the art t' improve 



Her wasted talent, and, unrais'd, aspire 



In this sad moulting time of her desire? 

 Not first belov'd, have I the power to love ; 



I cannot but stir, but as thou please to move me, 

 Nor can my heart return thee love, until thou love 



me." 



Anon. 



The same metaphor also occurs in the 13th 

 Emblem of Quarles' 1st Book : 



" Like as the am'rous needle joys to bend 



To her magnetic friend ; 



Or as the greedy lover's eye-balls fly 



At his fair mistress' eye ; 

 So, so we cling to earth ; we fly and puflT, 

 Yet fly not fast enough." 



Sigma. 

 Sunderland. 



[Our correspondent Anon had anticipated the first 

 portion of Sigma's communication.] 



