 | The Passionate Sparke of a Relenting Minde |  |
His Passionado
when he was in Pilgrimage.
1
Thou Phaeton thy firy course do'st end,and Cinthia thou with borrow'd light do'st shine
These woods their silent horrors doo out-send,
And Vallies lowe their mistie Vapors shrine,
Each liuely thing by natures course doth goe
To rest saue I that wander now in woe.
2
My plaints impart these soli'd partes to fill,Whil'st roaring Riuers send their sowndes among
Each dreadfull Deen appeares to helpe me still,
And yeelds sad Consorts to my sorr'wing song,
How oft I breath this wofull word alace,
From Eccho I sad accents backe imbrace.
3
I will aduance, what feares can me affray?Since Dreades are all debar'd by high dispaire,
Like darke nights-Ghost, I Vagabond astraye
With trobled spri't transported here and there,
None like my selfe but this my selfe alone
I martir'd man bewaile my matchlesse mone.
4
You flintie stones take eares and eyes to seeThis thundring greife with earthquake of my hart
That you may sigh and weepe with miser-Mee
Melt at thē tragicke Commentes of my smart.
Let these my teares that fall on you so oft
Make your obdurate hardnesse to be soft.
5
You liquid droppes distilling from mine eyes,In Christall you, my second selfe appeares:
Patterne of paine, how do'st thou sympathize
In visage wan, and Pilgrim's weede thou beares?
And on those signes of miscontent attire
Still doe I read, debar'd from my desire.
6
This hairie Roabe which doth my corps containThis Burden and my rough vnrased heade
A winter and a summer haue I bin
In dangers great still wandring in this weede,
Loe thus the force of my disasters strange
Hath made me vse this vnacquainted change.
7
I am dri'd vp with Dolors I endureMy hollowe eyes bewray my restles night
My Visage pale selfe pittie doth procure
I see my sores deciph'red in my sight.
A Pilgrime still, my Oracle was so,
And made my name, AH MISER MAN I GO.
8
Now doe I goe and wander anyway,No strange estate no kinde of trau'ling toyles
No threatning Crosse nor sorrow can me stay,
To search and seeke through all the sorts of soyles.
So round about this Round still haue I run,
Where I began, againe I haue begun.
9
In strangest parts where stranger I may bee,An outcast lost and voyed of al reliefe:
When saddest sights of sorrow I can see,
They to my graue shall helpe to feede my griefe
If Wonders selfe can wofull wonders showe
That sight, that part, that wonder I will knowe.
10
Thus doe I walke on forreigne fieldes forlorne,To carelesse-Mee, all cares do prooue vnkinde,
I doe the Fates of fickle Fortune scorne:
Each Crosse now bredes contentment to my minde
Astonish of stupendious things by day,
Nor howling sounds by night can me affray.
11
You stately, Alpes surmounting in the skyesThe force of floods yt from your heights down falles
There mighty Clamors with my carefull Cries,
The Eechoes voice from hollow Caues recalles.
The snow froz'n-clowds down frō your tops do thūder
Their voyce with mine doth teare ye ayre a sunder
12
And Neptune thou when thy proude swelling wrathFrō gulphes to mountaines mou'd with Winters blast
In anger great when thou did'st threaten death
Oft in thy rage, thy raging stormes I past
And my salt teares increast thy saltnes more,
My sighes with windes made all thy bowells rore.
13
The spatious earth and groundlesse deepe shall beare,A true Record of this my mart'ring mone
And if there were a world of worlds to heare
(When from this mortall Chaos I am gone)
I dare approue my sorrow hath bin such
That all their witts cannot admire too much.
14
On the colde grownde my Caytife-Carcasse lyes,The leaueles trees my Winter-blasted-bed.
Noe Architecture but the Vap'rous skyes,
Blacke foggie Mist my weari'd corpes hath cled,
This lothsome Laire on which I restles tourne
Doth best befit Mee-Miser-man to mourne:
15
With open eyes Nights darknes I disdaine,On my Cros'd-brest I Crosse my Crossed armes
And when Repose seekes to preuent my paine,
Squadrons of Cares doe sound their fresh alarmes
So in my sleep (the Image of pale Death)
These sighing words with burthen brus'd I breath.
16
I euer row'd my Barge against the streame,I scal'd those steppes that Fortune did me frame
I Conquer'd, which impossible did seeme.
I, haples I, once happie I became
Now sweetest Ioy is turn'd to bitter gall
The higher vp the greater was my fall.
17
What passing Follies are in high Estates,Whose foolish hopes giue promise to aspire:
Selfe-flatt'rie still doth maske the feare of Fates
Till vnawares deceiu'd in sougth desire,
This breeds dispaire, then force of Fortunes change
Setts high Estates in dread and perrill strange.
18
There secret grudge, Enuie and Treason dwellesThere Iustice lies, in Dole-bewraying weede
There slyding Time with alt'ring feates still telles
The great Attempts ambitious mindes doe breed.
They who haue most still hunt for more and more
They most desire that most are choak'd with store
19
Henceforth will I forsake Terrestiall Toyes,Which are nought ells but shawdowes of deceat
What Couer'd danger is in earthly ioyes,
When vilde Enuie, triumphes on each Estate.
Thou Traytor Time thy Treason doth betray
And makes youthes Spring in florish fayre decay.
20
What's in Experience which I haue not soughtAll (in that All) my will I did aduaunce
At highest rate, all these my witts are bought
In Fortunes Lottrie, I haue try'd my Chaunce.
So what I haue I haue it not by showe,
But by experience which I truly knowe.
21
Long haue I search'd and now at last I finde,Eye-pleasing-Calmes the tempest doth obscure.
When I in glory of my prosp'rous winde,
With white-sweld-sayles on gentle seas secure
And whē I thought my Loadstarre shin'd most faire
Eu'n then my hopes made shipwracke on dispaire.
22
My light is darke whil'st I am ouerthrowne,Poore silly Barke that did pure loue possesse:
With great vngratefull stormes thus am I blowne
On ruthlesse Rockes still deafe at my distresse.
So long-sought-Conquest doth in ruin's bost
And saies behold, thy loue and labor's lost.
23
Since all my loue and labor's lost, let FameSpit forth her hate and with that hatefull scorne
In darke obliuion sepulchrize my name:
And tell the world that I was neuer borne.
In me all earthly dream'd-of-Ioy shall ende.
As Indian herbes, which in blacke smoke I spende.
14
All-doting-pleasure, that all-tempting-Deuill,I shall abhor as a contag'ous Pest
I'le purge and clense my sences of that Euill
I sweare and vow, still in this vow to rest,
In sable habit of the mourning blacke
I'le solemnize this oath and vow I make.
15
Then goe vilde World confused Masse of nought,Thy bitternesse hath now abus'd my brayne
Auoid thy deu'llish Fancy from my thought
With idle toyes torment me not agayne.
My Time which thy alluring folly spent
With heart contrite and teares I doe repent.
FINIS.
| The Passionate Sparke of a Relenting Minde | |