University of Virginia Library

VRANIA,

OR Spirituall Poems.

[i]

[Triumphing Chariots, Statues, Crownes of Bayes]

Triumphing Chariots, Statues, Crownes of Bayes,
Skie-threatning Arches, the Rewards of Worth,
Workes heauenly wise in sweet harmonious Layes,
Which Sprights diuine vnto the World set forth:
States, which ambitious Mindes with Blood doe raise
From frozen Tanais to Sunne-gilded Gange,
Giganticke Frames held Wonders rarely strange,
Like Spiders Webbes, are made the Sport of Dayes.
All only constant is in constant Change,
What done is, is vndone, and when vndone,
Into some other Fashion doth it range:
Thus goes the floting World beneath the Moone,
Where for (my Minde) aboue Time, Motion, Place,
Thee raise, and Steps vnknowne to Nature Trace.

[ii]

[Too long I follow'd haue my fond Desire]

Too long I follow'd haue my fond Desire,
And too long painted on the Ocean Streames:
Too long Refreshment sought amidst the Fire,
And hunted Ioyes, which to my Soule were Blames.
Ah! when I had what most I did admire,
And seene of Lifes Delights the last Extreames,
I found all but a Rose hedg'd with a Bryer,
A Nought, a Thought, a Show of mocking Dreames.
Hencefoorth on thee mine only Good I'll thinke,
For only thou canst grant what I doe craue,
Thy Naile my Penne shall bee, thy Blood mine Inke,
Thy Winding-shee my Paper, Studie Graue.
And till that Soule forth of this Bodie flie,
No Hope I'll haue but only onelie Thee.

[iii]

[To spreade the azure Canopie of Heauen]

To spreade the azure Canopie of Heauen,
And make it twinckle all with Spanges of Gold,
To place this pondrous Globe of Earth so euen,
That it should all, and nought should it vphold:
To giue strange Motions to the Planets seuen,
And Ioue to make so meeke, and Mars so bold,
To temper what is moist, drie, hote, and cold,
Of all their Iarres that sweet Accords are giuen.
Lord, to thy Wit is nought, nought to thy Might,
But that thou shouldst (thy Glorie laid aside)
Come basely in Mortalitie to bide,
And die for them deseru'd eternall Plight,
A Wonder is, so farre aboue our Wit,
That Angells stand amaz'd to thinke on it.

[iv]

[Come forth, come forth, yee blest triumphing Bands]

Come forth, come forth, yee blest triumphing Bands,
Faire Citizens of that immortall Towne:
Come see that King, who all this All commands,
Now (ouercharg'd with Loue) die for his owne.
Looke on those Nailes which pierce his Feete and Hands,
What a strange Diademe his Browes doth crowne?
Beholde his pallide Face, his Eyes which sowne,
And what a Throng of Thieues him mocking stands:
Come forth yee Empyrean Troupes, come forth,
Preserue this sacred Blook, which Earth adornes,
Gather those liquide Roses from his Thornes,
O! to bee lost they bee of too much Worth:
For Streames, Iuice, Baulme, they are, which quench, killes, charmes,
Of God, Death, Hell, the Wrath, the Life, the Harmes.

[i]

[Soule, which to Hell wast thrall]

Soule , which to Hell wast thrall,
Hee, hee for thine Offence
Did suffer Death, who could not die at all:
O soueraigne Excellence,
O Life of all that liues,
Eternall Bountie, which all Goodnesse giues,
How could Death mount so hie?
No Wit this Point can reach,
Faith onely doth vs teach,
For vs hee died, at all who could not die.

[v]

[If such passing Beautie, choise Delights]

If such passing Beautie, choise Delights,
The Architect of this great Round did frame
This Pallace visible, which World we name?
(Yet sillie Mansion but of mortall Wights)
How many Wonders? what amazing Lights,
Must that triumphing Seate of Glorie claime?
Which doth transcend all this great Alls high Hights,
Of Whose bright Sunne ours heere is but a Beame?
O blest Abode! ô happie dwelling Place!
Where visiblie th' Inuisible doth raigne,
Blest People, who doe see true Beauties Face,
With whose darke Shadowes Hee but Earth doth daigne,
All Ioy is but Annoy, all Concord Strife,
Match'd with your endlesse Blisse, and happie Life.

[ii]

[Loue which is heere, a Care]

Loue which is heere, a Care
That Wit and Will doth marre,
Vncertaine Truce, and a most certaine Warre,
A shrill tempestuous Winde,
Which doth disturbe the Minde,
And like wilde Waues our Dessignes all commoue:
Among those Sprights aboue
Which see their Makers Face,
It a Contentment is, a quiet Peace,
A Pleasure voide of Griefe, a constant Rest,
Eternall Ioy, which nothing can molest.

[vi]

[What haplesse Hap had I now to bee borne]

What haplesse Hap had I now to bee borne,
In these vnhappie Times, and dying Dayes,
Of this else-doating World? when Good decayes,
Loue is quench'd forth, and Vertue held a Scorne.
When such are onely priz'd, by wretched Wayes
Who with a golden Fleece them can adorne,
When Auarice, and Lust, are counted Praise,
And noble Mindes liue Orphane-like forlorne.
Why was not I into that golden Age,
When Gold yet was not knowne? and those blacke Artes,
By which base Mortalles vildely play their Parts,
And staine with horride Actes Earths stately Stage?
Then to haue beene, Heauen, it had beene my Blisse,
But blesse mee now, and take mee soone from this.

[vii]

[Thrise happie hee, who by some shadie Groue]

Thrise happie hee, who by some shadie Groue
Farre from the clamarous World doth liue his owne,
Though solitare, yet who is not alone,
But doth conuerse with that Eternall Loue.
O how more sweet is Birds harmonious Mone,
Or the soft Sobbings of the widow'd Doue?
Than those smoothe Whisp'rings neare a Princes Throne,
Which Good make doubtfull, doe the Euill approue.
O how more sweet is Zephyres wholesome Breath,
And Sighs perfum'd, which doe the Flowres vnfold,
Tnan that Applause vaine Honour doth bequeath?
How sweete are Streames to Poyson drunke in Gold?
The World is full of Horrours, Falshoods, Slights,
Woods silent Shades haue only true Delights.

[viii]

[Why (Worldlings) doe ye trust fraile Honours Dreames?]

Why (Worldlings) doe ye trust fraile Honours Dreames?
And leane to guilded Glories which decay?
Why doe yee toyle to registrate your Names
In ycie Columnes, which soone melt away?
True Honour is not here, that Place it claimes,
Where blacke-brow'd Night doth not exile the Day,
Nor no farre-shining Lampe diues in the Sea,
But an eternall Sunne spreades lasting Beames.
There it attendeth you, where spotlesse Bands
Of Sprights, stand gazing on their soueraigne Blisse,
Where Yeeres not hold it in their cankring Hands,
But who once noble euer noble is:
Looke home, lest he your weakned Wit make thrall,
Who Edens foolish Gard'ner earst made fall.

[iii]

[Astrea in this Time]

Astrea in this Time
Now doth not liue, but is fled vp to Heauen;
Or if shee liue, it is not without Crime
That shee doth vse her Power,
And shee is no more Virgine, but a Whoure,
Whoure prostitute for Gold:
For shee doth neuer holde her Ballance euen,
And when her Sword is roll'd,
The Bad, Injurious, False, shee not o'rethrowes,
But on the Innocent lets fall her Blowes.

[ix]

[What serues it to bee good? Goodnesse by thee]

What serues it to bee good? Goodnesse by thee
The Holy-wise is thought a Foole to bee,
For thee the Man to Temperance inclin'de,
Is held but of a base and abject Minde,
The Continent is thought for thee but cold,
Who yet was good, that euer died old?
The pittifull who others feares to kill,
Is kill'd himselfe, and Goodnesse doth him ill:
The meeke and humble Man who cannot braue,
By thee is to some Giants Brood made Slaue.
Poore Goodnesse, thine thou to such Wrongs sett'st forth,
That ô! I feare mee, thou art nothing worth:
And when I looke to Earth, and not to Heauen,
Ere I were turned Doue, I would bee Rauen.

[i]

[Great GOD, whom wee with humble Thoughts adore]