1. Vengeance will sit above our faults; but till
She there doth sit,
We see her not, nor them. Thus, blinde, yet still
We leade her way; and thus, whil'st we doe ill,
We suffer it.
2. Vnhappy he, whom youth makes not beware
Of doing ill.
Enough we labour under age, and care;
In number, th'errours of the last place, are
The greatest still.
3. Yet we, that should the ill we now begin
As soone repent,
(Strange thing!) perceive not; our faults are not seen,
But past us; neither felt, but onely in
The punishment.
4. But we know our selves least; Mere outward shews
Our mindes so store,
That our soules, no more than our eyes disclose
But forme and colour. Onely he who knowes
Himselfe, knowes more.
I. D.
[Ode. 1635-69, O'F: Of our Sense of Sinne.
H40, RP31 (in margin, S^{r} Edw. Herbert): no title,
B, Cy, P, S]
[2 doth 1635-39: do 1650-69]
[11 now] new B]
[15 The 1635-69, Cy, P: Our B, H40, O'F]