Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave,

Let me once know.

I sought thee in a secret cave,

And ask'd, if Peace were there.

A hollow winde did seem to answer, No:

Go seek elsewhere.

I did; and going did a rainbow note:

Surely, thought I,

This is the lace of Peaces coat:

I will search out the matter.

But while I lookt, the clouds immediately

Did break and scatter.

Then went I to a garden, and did spy

A gallant flower,

The crown Imperiall: Sure, said I,

Peace at the root must dwell.

But when I digg'd, I saw a worm devoure

What show'd so well.

At length I met a rev'rend good old man,

Whom when for Peace

I did demand; he thus began:

There was a Prince of old

At Salem dwelt, who liv'd with good increase

Of flock and fold.

He sweetly liv'd; yet sweetnesse did not save

His life from foes.

But after death out of his grave

There sprang twelve stalks of wheat:

Which many wondring at, got some of those

To plant and set.

It prosper'd strangely, and did soon disperse

Through all the earth:

For they that taste it do rehearse,

That vertue lies therein,

A secret vertue bringing peace and mirth

By flight of sinne.

Take of this grain, which in my garden grows,

And grows for you;

Make bread of it: and that repose

And peace which ev'ry where

With so much earnestnesse you do pursue,

Is onely there.