The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ An Heroic Poem: Dedicated to Her Most Sacred Majesty. In Ten Books. Attempted by Samuel Wesley ... Each Book illustrated by necessary Notes, explaining all the more difficult Matters in the whole History: Also a Prefatory Discourse concerning Heroic Poetry. With Sixty Copper-Plates |
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| I. |
| II. |
BOOK II.
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| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
 | The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ |  |
31
BOOK II.
THE ARGUMENT OF THE Second BOOK.
St.
Peter begins the Relation of our Blessed Saviour's Life, which he opens
with the Prophecy of the Messiah's Birth, the Accomplishment of Daniel's
Weeks, the Sceptre's departing from Judah, and the Tyranny of Herod;
where St. John reminds him of the Preparations for our Saviour's Birth, the
Angel's Salutation &c. which he thereupon repeats at large, as Joseph, the
Husband of the Blessed Virgin, had formerly done it to Zebedee and him.
Joseph's Character of her before their Marriage, whom having obtain'd of her
Father Heli, before they came together she was found with Child of the
Holy Ghost. His Passion thereupon, and Resolution to be divorc'd, till
admonish'd by an Angel of her Purity and Innocence and the manner of her
Conception: on which he asks Pardon for his unjust Censures, and desires
her to give him an account of that miraculous Transaction. The Virgin relates
the Appearance of the Angel, his Ave or Salutation, and her conception by
the over-shadowing of the Holy Spirit. Joseph goes on and gives the Character
of a good Wife in the Blessed Virgin, and the History of his travelling with
her to see their Cousin Elizabeth, who tho old and barren, the Angel had told
her should shortly have a Child. The Way to Geba, near which liv'd Zachary
and Elizabeth. The Description of Zachary's pleasant Seat, whom they find
dumb at their Arrival. The Salutation of Elizabeth to the Blessed Virgin.
Two Digressions, to the Virgin Mary and her present Majesty. The Birth and
Circumcision of John the Baptist: his Father Zachary recovers his Speech, and
gives an account of the Occasion of his strange Silence, and the Angel's
Prophecy concerning his Son: his Song from the first of St. Luke. Joseph
and the Virgin return to Nazareth, and make Preparations for her Son's
Birth: whence being recalled by the Edict of Augustus, they go for Bethlehem:
a Description of the pleasant way thither, and of the most remarkable places
on the Road, Rachel's Tomb, David's Well, &c. They arrive at Bethlehem
late at Night, and can find no Lodging. Her Travail approaches. Joseph's
concern for her. He conducts her into a Cave without the Town. Our Saviour's
Birth. The Angels attend him. The Shepherds come to the Cave early
in the Morning to adore him; and on Joseph's wondring how they heard the
News, two young Shepherds, Strephon and Claius, give him the Relation,
after they had sung a Caroll on that Subject. The Angel's Song at the Nativity.
The Presentation of our Saviour at the Temple, where old Simeon
finds him. His Song or the Nunc dimittis. The Testimony of Anna the
Prophetess: the Journey of the three Kings, conducted by a Star to Jerusalem,
and enquiring of the place of our Saviour's Birth, which Herod, pretending
Devotion, asks of the Sanhedrim; Gamaliel remembers the passage
and repeats their Resolution in the Prophecy of Micah, and that 'twas to be at
Bethlehem. Thither Herod directs the Kings, desiring they'd let him know
as soon as they found him, on pretence he'd follow and worship him. They
find the Infant, adore and present him; but warn'd by a Vision, return incognito
to their own Country, not calling at Jerusalem. Herod being disappointed
and enraged, orders the Murder of the Innocents. Joseph is warned
by an Angel to fly into Egypt with the Child and his Mother. As they are
going by Night they look back from a Hill near the Town, and, by the Light
of Torches in the Streets discover the Massacre of the Infants: whence they
hasten to Egypt. The Way thither, Syrbon Lake, Tomb of Pompey. They
pass by Memphis, and the Pyramids, and fix at Babylon. The Death of
Herod. Their Return, and Retirement to Nazareth, for fear of Archelaus
Herod's Son. Our Saviour's Carriage in his Childhood: his going to Jerusalem
at the Passover with his Parents, and Disputation in the Temple with
the Doctors and Heads of the Sanhedrim, which Nicodemus calls to mind,
and that he presided in the Schools at that time, giving a Character of our Saviour.
St. John tells 'em how much he was since advantageously altered,
and so affectionately describes him, that Nicodemus is desirous to wait on
him, and St. John offering to conduct him thither, the Company break up,
having appointed to meet again the next Morning, in order to hear the rest of
our Saviour's Actions.
32
33
All
silent stood, when Rama's Lord had done,
Till in the midst Bar-Jonas thus begun:
So, when our Prince shall Israel's Throne regain,
So may I by his side for ever reign,
As nought but chast and sacred Truths I tell;
Chast as that Virgin-womb wherein he once did dwell:
Admir'd by Friends, by Enemies confest,
Which these, which Fame, which all the World attest:
By Reason voucht, and many a mighty Sign,
By Humane Faith and Oracles divine;
To you not hid: for Israel's Masters can't
Of what all Israel knows, be ignorant:
Nor can we doubt, but clearly you discern
Those sacred Truths which from your Lips we learn;
That now the promis'd happy Days appear,
That the Messia's Kingdom must be near:
This Heav'n-lov'd Daniel's mystic Weeks contain,
Whose end begins th' anointed Princes Reign,
From whose wise Books his sacred Name we gain:
That Period past, our Rabbies all declare,
And come he is, or we must now despair.
This Israel's Groans confess, their freedom broke,
And shoulders worn beneath a foreign yoke;
By that fell Idumean Wolf opprest,
Who red with blood his savage Sire confest,
Who did revenge old Esau's shame and stain,
And his supplanting Lord supplant again
Dissembling Piety; our Temple rais'd,
But that himself, not God, might there be prais'd:
With human blood the blushing pavement dies,
And makes th' High-Priest himself a Sacrifice:
And big with crimes, O shame, O deep disgrace!
Destroy'd the Hasmonean Royal Race:
By him our total Bondage did begin;
He first inviting the fierce Romans in;
Their Idol-Eagle to our Temple brings,
Who pearcht on proud Antonia, claps his Wings:
Juda no more gives Laws, no more is Israel free;
Nay, scarce enjoys the Name of Liberty:
Enroll'd and tax'd, and humble Clients made,
Our Substance seiz'd for the Imperial Aid;
All that the Tyrant left, we had our share,
Which my fierce Country cou'd not tamely bear:
You know the rest, Our unsuccessful fight
And slaughter under the bold Gaulonite:
Not so our Princes humble Parents, they
Had learn't, like him, to suffer and obey:
Tho' both deduc'd from David's Royal Stem,
And the true Heirs of Israel's Diadem;
And either House their clear Succession brings
From a long Race of Prophets and of Kings:
So great a Change by Fate and Time is made,
From David's glitt'ring Throne to th' meanest Trade,
For such good Joseph us'd, with honest pain
His small, yet sacred Houshold to sustain,
'Till thence by th' Edict call'd—But first declare
Says John, what our great King's Forerunners were,
(If all our words for credit may prevail;)
The wond'rous message, and the wond'rous Hail!
Till in the midst Bar-Jonas thus begun:
So, when our Prince shall Israel's Throne regain,
So may I by his side for ever reign,
As nought but chast and sacred Truths I tell;
Chast as that Virgin-womb wherein he once did dwell:
Admir'd by Friends, by Enemies confest,
Which these, which Fame, which all the World attest:
By Reason voucht, and many a mighty Sign,
By Humane Faith and Oracles divine;
34
Of what all Israel knows, be ignorant:
Nor can we doubt, but clearly you discern
Those sacred Truths which from your Lips we learn;
That now the promis'd happy Days appear,
That the Messia's Kingdom must be near:
This Heav'n-lov'd Daniel's mystic Weeks contain,
Whose end begins th' anointed Princes Reign,
From whose wise Books his sacred Name we gain:
That Period past, our Rabbies all declare,
And come he is, or we must now despair.
This Israel's Groans confess, their freedom broke,
And shoulders worn beneath a foreign yoke;
By that fell Idumean Wolf opprest,
Who red with blood his savage Sire confest,
Who did revenge old Esau's shame and stain,
And his supplanting Lord supplant again
Dissembling Piety; our Temple rais'd,
But that himself, not God, might there be prais'd:
With human blood the blushing pavement dies,
And makes th' High-Priest himself a Sacrifice:
And big with crimes, O shame, O deep disgrace!
Destroy'd the Hasmonean Royal Race:
By him our total Bondage did begin;
He first inviting the fierce Romans in;
Their Idol-Eagle to our Temple brings,
Who pearcht on proud Antonia, claps his Wings:
Juda no more gives Laws, no more is Israel free;
Nay, scarce enjoys the Name of Liberty:
Enroll'd and tax'd, and humble Clients made,
Our Substance seiz'd for the Imperial Aid;
All that the Tyrant left, we had our share,
Which my fierce Country cou'd not tamely bear:
You know the rest, Our unsuccessful fight
And slaughter under the bold Gaulonite:
Not so our Princes humble Parents, they
Had learn't, like him, to suffer and obey:
Tho' both deduc'd from David's Royal Stem,
And the true Heirs of Israel's Diadem;
35
From a long Race of Prophets and of Kings:
So great a Change by Fate and Time is made,
From David's glitt'ring Throne to th' meanest Trade,
For such good Joseph us'd, with honest pain
His small, yet sacred Houshold to sustain,
'Till thence by th' Edict call'd—But first declare
Says John, what our great King's Forerunners were,
(If all our words for credit may prevail;)
The wond'rous message, and the wond'rous Hail!
Well interrupted, fervent Cephas cries,
None better can relate those Prodigies;
Which oft I've heard the Good old man repeat,
Joseph himself, as on an Oozy Seat
Against the sounding Beach repos'd we lay,
To taste the gentle Breeze, after a scorching day:
What wonders did the rev'rend Sire declare?
Once I remember Zebedee was there:
We prest him both to tell us what he knew,
He yields, and vows by the great Name 'twas true:
Then thus began;—When Youths fresh Bloom was past,
And brought of seven Sabbatic Years the last
Advis'd by Friends, I sought a virtuous Wife,
To share and soften the Fatigues of Life:
From all that Nazareth accounted fair;
(And many a blooming Beauty triumph'd there)
Old Heli's Daughter did the Garland bear:
From the same Spring our kindred blood we drew,
And what's our Rise can be unknown to few:
From David, he by Nathan brings his Line,
And I, by Solomon, deducing mine
As did the Root, so now the Branches join:
Gladly he gives, what I as gladly take,
Agreed, we soon the solemn Contract make:
All envy'd me, all thought divinely blest,
When of the charming heavenly Maid possest:
For she was fair beyond all Mortal Race,
And something more than human in her Face:
Endu'd with all her Sexes Charms and more,
Which yet without their Vanity she wore.
Never a Mind so humble and so great,
Since Eden's loss, so fair a Body met:
Nay, had ev'n Eve's been such, our Sire had been content;
And scarce cou'd Eden's Loss it self lament:
“Tender, not fond, prudent, yet not precise;
“Tho' wise, not thought her self for me too wise:
“Content with our low state, nor vainly stood
“Upon her Royal Race, or antient Blood:
“Secrets in hers, as safe as in my Breast;
All form'd beyond my wish, to make me blest.
But what did most of joy and triumph bring,
Th' illustrious Gem in her bright Virtues ring
Was her Angelic Chastity; not Eve
E're she did Adam, her the Fiend deceive,
When first she sprung from our great Parents side,
Not she her self a purer Virgin-Bride.
Guess but how strangely then I was amaz'd,
Nor could believe my eyes—agen I gaz'd,
When in my Arms the trembling Fair I claspt;
But started back agen—
As one who in green Herbs a Serpent graspt:
When on the first triumphant Nuptial Night
I found her pregnant, now 'twas plain to sight.
When she was false—
Whom all did above all her Sex prefer,
What did I then, blaspheme of them and Her?
What Vengeance for my injur'd Love debate?
And yet that Love deny'd to let me hate.
Resolv'd, tho' yet I knew not how, to part;
“And, if I could, free my unlucky heart:
Resolv'd to tear the perjur'd Charmer thence,
Divorc'd from her, as she from Innocence.
Thus, stung with Indignation and Despair,
Not ev'n her Tears could longer keep me there:
Far from the Nuptial Room, I rush't away;
“And on the ground a widdow'd Bridegroom lay:
Where gentle sleep, tho' call'd, long from me fled;
My restless thoughts uneasie as my Bed:
And twice the cheerful Harbinger of Day
Had clapt his Wings, and warn'd the Shades away,
Warn'd me, as usual, but in vain to rise,
E're watchful Grief once let me close my Eyes;
'Till sudden slumbers me at last surprize.
I dreamt,—but sure 'twas more, as by th' Event
Appear'd, I saw a glorious Watcher sent,
Glorious as e're to Man glad news did bring;
He touch't and rais'd me with his Purple Wing,
Then thus began,—“Great Branch of Jesse's Stem!
“Heir of thy Father David's Diadem!
“What restless thought, or what unhandsom Fear,
“From thy unspotted Bride, detains thee here?
“On whose fair Soul no thought of Ill's imprest;
“Pure as the Flame that warms an Angels Breast.
“As for the root of all thy jealous cares,
“That wond'rous sacred Burden which she bears;
“The divine Spirit alone, did that infuse,
“And I my self was sent to tell the news
“To her, as now to thee; and e're the Moon
“Five Courses more thro' her short Orb has gone,
“She shall be blest with a miraculous Son;
“Jesus his sacred Name long since design'd,
“The mighty Saviour he of lost Mankind.
He said: I trembling wake: no more h' appears.
But his last words, methought, still sounded in my Ears:
Rouz'd from my humble Couch, I softly come
With sacred Horror to the Nuptial Room;
Fix'd more than half a Statue at the Door
I saw and lov'd far fiercer than before,
And gaz'd and sigh'd, but dar'd attempt no more.
Her Beauty fed, but reverence checkt my Fire;
And still I lov'd, but durst not still desire.
Heav'ns! how she looks? how lovely still appears?
For still, methinks, I see—how charming, ev'n her Tears!
(Thus the sweet Rose new paints its heav'nly hue,
When bending with big drops of morning dew).
Nor cou'd I guess, till I approacht more nigh,
Whether they sprung from Grief or Extasie:
She blusht and in my Bosom hid her face:)
(The modest Blush, confest not guilt, but Grace).
Conjuring me, by all I once thought dear,
E're I condemn'd her, her defence to hear:
Insist no more, I cry'd, on thy defence!
Heav'n has already clear'd thy Innocence:
An Angel-Form, not you your self more fair,
Did late th' indubitable Truth declare:
Bright, injur'd, lovely Maid! no longer grieve!
Dry those vain Tears, and, if you can, forgive!
None better can relate those Prodigies;
Which oft I've heard the Good old man repeat,
Joseph himself, as on an Oozy Seat
Against the sounding Beach repos'd we lay,
To taste the gentle Breeze, after a scorching day:
What wonders did the rev'rend Sire declare?
Once I remember Zebedee was there:
We prest him both to tell us what he knew,
He yields, and vows by the great Name 'twas true:
Then thus began;—When Youths fresh Bloom was past,
And brought of seven Sabbatic Years the last
Advis'd by Friends, I sought a virtuous Wife,
To share and soften the Fatigues of Life:
From all that Nazareth accounted fair;
(And many a blooming Beauty triumph'd there)
Old Heli's Daughter did the Garland bear:
From the same Spring our kindred blood we drew,
And what's our Rise can be unknown to few:
From David, he by Nathan brings his Line,
And I, by Solomon, deducing mine
As did the Root, so now the Branches join:
Gladly he gives, what I as gladly take,
Agreed, we soon the solemn Contract make:
All envy'd me, all thought divinely blest,
When of the charming heavenly Maid possest:
For she was fair beyond all Mortal Race,
And something more than human in her Face:
Endu'd with all her Sexes Charms and more,
Which yet without their Vanity she wore.
36
Since Eden's loss, so fair a Body met:
Nay, had ev'n Eve's been such, our Sire had been content;
And scarce cou'd Eden's Loss it self lament:
“Tender, not fond, prudent, yet not precise;
“Tho' wise, not thought her self for me too wise:
“Content with our low state, nor vainly stood
“Upon her Royal Race, or antient Blood:
“Secrets in hers, as safe as in my Breast;
All form'd beyond my wish, to make me blest.
But what did most of joy and triumph bring,
Th' illustrious Gem in her bright Virtues ring
Was her Angelic Chastity; not Eve
E're she did Adam, her the Fiend deceive,
When first she sprung from our great Parents side,
Not she her self a purer Virgin-Bride.
Guess but how strangely then I was amaz'd,
Nor could believe my eyes—agen I gaz'd,
When in my Arms the trembling Fair I claspt;
But started back agen—
As one who in green Herbs a Serpent graspt:
When on the first triumphant Nuptial Night
I found her pregnant, now 'twas plain to sight.
When she was false—
Whom all did above all her Sex prefer,
What did I then, blaspheme of them and Her?
What Vengeance for my injur'd Love debate?
And yet that Love deny'd to let me hate.
Resolv'd, tho' yet I knew not how, to part;
“And, if I could, free my unlucky heart:
Resolv'd to tear the perjur'd Charmer thence,
Divorc'd from her, as she from Innocence.
Thus, stung with Indignation and Despair,
Not ev'n her Tears could longer keep me there:
Far from the Nuptial Room, I rush't away;
“And on the ground a widdow'd Bridegroom lay:
Where gentle sleep, tho' call'd, long from me fled;
My restless thoughts uneasie as my Bed:
And twice the cheerful Harbinger of Day
Had clapt his Wings, and warn'd the Shades away,
37
E're watchful Grief once let me close my Eyes;
'Till sudden slumbers me at last surprize.
I dreamt,—but sure 'twas more, as by th' Event
Appear'd, I saw a glorious Watcher sent,
Glorious as e're to Man glad news did bring;
He touch't and rais'd me with his Purple Wing,
Then thus began,—“Great Branch of Jesse's Stem!
“Heir of thy Father David's Diadem!
“What restless thought, or what unhandsom Fear,
“From thy unspotted Bride, detains thee here?
“On whose fair Soul no thought of Ill's imprest;
“Pure as the Flame that warms an Angels Breast.
“As for the root of all thy jealous cares,
“That wond'rous sacred Burden which she bears;
“The divine Spirit alone, did that infuse,
“And I my self was sent to tell the news
“To her, as now to thee; and e're the Moon
“Five Courses more thro' her short Orb has gone,
“She shall be blest with a miraculous Son;
“Jesus his sacred Name long since design'd,
“The mighty Saviour he of lost Mankind.
He said: I trembling wake: no more h' appears.
But his last words, methought, still sounded in my Ears:
Rouz'd from my humble Couch, I softly come
With sacred Horror to the Nuptial Room;
Fix'd more than half a Statue at the Door
I saw and lov'd far fiercer than before,
And gaz'd and sigh'd, but dar'd attempt no more.
Her Beauty fed, but reverence checkt my Fire;
And still I lov'd, but durst not still desire.
Heav'ns! how she looks? how lovely still appears?
For still, methinks, I see—how charming, ev'n her Tears!
(Thus the sweet Rose new paints its heav'nly hue,
When bending with big drops of morning dew).
Nor cou'd I guess, till I approacht more nigh,
Whether they sprung from Grief or Extasie:
She blusht and in my Bosom hid her face:)
(The modest Blush, confest not guilt, but Grace).
38
E're I condemn'd her, her defence to hear:
Insist no more, I cry'd, on thy defence!
Heav'n has already clear'd thy Innocence:
An Angel-Form, not you your self more fair,
Did late th' indubitable Truth declare:
Bright, injur'd, lovely Maid! no longer grieve!
Dry those vain Tears, and, if you can, forgive!
Then Heav'n has shewn, she said, what I conceal'd;
The mighty Secret, is at last reveal'd:
A Secret, which who e're attempts to tell,
Wou'd need t'oblige belief another Miracle.
The mighty Secret, is at last reveal'd:
A Secret, which who e're attempts to tell,
Wou'd need t'oblige belief another Miracle.
By our chast Loves I cry'd, much injur'd Fair!
And by that sacred Burthen which you bear,
Conceal not ought, nor my suspicions fear,
Since nothing now, but I'm prepar'd to hear.
She yields, and thus begins—
And by that sacred Burthen which you bear,
Conceal not ought, nor my suspicions fear,
Since nothing now, but I'm prepar'd to hear.
She yields, and thus begins—
Three Moons are gone,
And now the fourth swift Orb is rolling on,
Since in my Father Heli's house I sate
Revolving deep those dark Decrees of Fate
Our sacred Books contain, that wond'rous year,
Which all our learned Rabbies think so near;
Above the rest then claim'd my thoughts and care,
Our promis'd Prince, and Heav'ns Almighty Heir;
Who Faith and Truth and Justice shall maintain,
And bless all Nature with his peaceful Reign:
While from the Rocks live streams of Honey flow,
And voluntary Palms and Roses grow:
Thrice happy oft I call'd and counted her,
Who at her Breast the Infant King should bear;
As oft I thought what humble Gifts I'd bring,
What Presents to adore the Infant King:
How blest, if in my Arms I might but hold,
Or in his Cradle, innocently bold
Seize the young Conqu'ror, and by sweet surprise
Might kiss his lovely Cheeks and heavenly Eyes!
Thus musing, sudden Glories me surround:
From the cleft Skies a youth with Sun-beams crown'd
More lovely far, than all the Race of Man,
Descending swift, bow'd low, and thus began:
And now the fourth swift Orb is rolling on,
Since in my Father Heli's house I sate
Revolving deep those dark Decrees of Fate
Our sacred Books contain, that wond'rous year,
Which all our learned Rabbies think so near;
Above the rest then claim'd my thoughts and care,
Our promis'd Prince, and Heav'ns Almighty Heir;
Who Faith and Truth and Justice shall maintain,
And bless all Nature with his peaceful Reign:
While from the Rocks live streams of Honey flow,
And voluntary Palms and Roses grow:
Thrice happy oft I call'd and counted her,
Who at her Breast the Infant King should bear;
As oft I thought what humble Gifts I'd bring,
What Presents to adore the Infant King:
How blest, if in my Arms I might but hold,
Or in his Cradle, innocently bold
Seize the young Conqu'ror, and by sweet surprise
Might kiss his lovely Cheeks and heavenly Eyes!
Thus musing, sudden Glories me surround:
From the cleft Skies a youth with Sun-beams crown'd
39
Descending swift, bow'd low, and thus began:
“All hail! belov'd of Heav'n! and full of Grace!
“More blest, more lov'd than all thy charming Race!
“Who, thou, thy self must that great Mother prove,
“Which was so late thy Envy and thy Love.
“Nor startle at the Message I declare!
“Thy Virgin-womb an Infant God must bear:
“That promis'd Prince who shall the World regain,
“And over all his Father's Empires reign:
“The Divine Spirit, Author of Joy and Love
“Breathing Conception on thee from above:
“Jesus his sacred Name long since design'd:
“The Mighty Saviour he of lost Mankind;
“Th' Eternal God in mortal mould confin'd:
“And if thy Infant-Faith wants Evidence,
“Indulgent Heav'n has sent thee proof from Sense:
“Aged Elizabeth, who did despair
“Like Sarah, ever to embrace an Heir,
“Six Moons already past, is pregnant grown,
“And shall be blest with a miraculous Son!
“Believe me, Sacred Maid! My words are true,
“For he who sent me here, can all things do.
“More blest, more lov'd than all thy charming Race!
“Who, thou, thy self must that great Mother prove,
“Which was so late thy Envy and thy Love.
“Nor startle at the Message I declare!
“Thy Virgin-womb an Infant God must bear:
“That promis'd Prince who shall the World regain,
“And over all his Father's Empires reign:
“The Divine Spirit, Author of Joy and Love
“Breathing Conception on thee from above:
“Jesus his sacred Name long since design'd:
“The Mighty Saviour he of lost Mankind;
“Th' Eternal God in mortal mould confin'd:
“And if thy Infant-Faith wants Evidence,
“Indulgent Heav'n has sent thee proof from Sense:
“Aged Elizabeth, who did despair
“Like Sarah, ever to embrace an Heir,
“Six Moons already past, is pregnant grown,
“And shall be blest with a miraculous Son!
“Believe me, Sacred Maid! My words are true,
“For he who sent me here, can all things do.
He said, and, whilst an Answer I prepare
He wings his way to Heav'n thro' trackless Air:
I after gaz'd, as o're the Clouds he trod,
And cry'd—O loveliest Form ith' Host of God!
My Faith I not refuse, nor yet suspend
To what my Reason cannot comprehend:
Be thy great Masters words without delay
Fulfill'd—'Tis his to order, mine t'obey.
He wings his way to Heav'n thro' trackless Air:
I after gaz'd, as o're the Clouds he trod,
And cry'd—O loveliest Form ith' Host of God!
My Faith I not refuse, nor yet suspend
To what my Reason cannot comprehend:
Be thy great Masters words without delay
Fulfill'd—'Tis his to order, mine t'obey.
Scarce had I said, and he no more appear'd,
When strait a still small whisp'ring sound I heard,
Like that a solitary Ear perceives,
When gentle Zephyr stroaks the velvet leaves:
With this, celestial fragrancies perfume,
And scatter Paradise around the room:
Enwrapt i'th' od'rous Cloud, a while I lay,
Whilst a soft air thro' all my veins did stray,
Thro' my warm Heart in new strange pulses move,
And melt my ravish'd Soul with heavenly Love:
Hence this strange Burthen now so plain to view,
Which Heav'n its Author has reveal'd to you;
And from that moment, I a Mother grew.
When strait a still small whisp'ring sound I heard,
Like that a solitary Ear perceives,
When gentle Zephyr stroaks the velvet leaves:
With this, celestial fragrancies perfume,
And scatter Paradise around the room:
Enwrapt i'th' od'rous Cloud, a while I lay,
Whilst a soft air thro' all my veins did stray,
40
And melt my ravish'd Soul with heavenly Love:
Hence this strange Burthen now so plain to view,
Which Heav'n its Author has reveal'd to you;
And from that moment, I a Mother grew.
She said, new Aves I almost prepare,
Nay, hardly Adoration cou'd forbear:
Thence to my wishes and my arms deny'd,
A Virgin-Mother and a Virgin-Bride,
She grac'd my humble Roof, and blest my Life,
Blest me by a far greater Name than Wife:
“Yet still I bore an undisputed sway,
“Nor was't her task, but pleasure to obey:
“Scarce thought, much less cou'd act, what I deny'd;
“In our low house there was no room for Pride:
“Nor need I e're direct what still was right,
“Still study'd my Convenience and Delight.
“Nor did I for her Care ungrateful prove,
“But only us'd my Pow'r, to shew my Love:
“What e're she askt I gave, without reproach or grudg,
“For still she Reason askt—and I was Judg:
“All my Commands Requests at her fair hands,
“And her Requests to me, were all Commands:
“To others Thresholds rarely she'd incline!
“Her House her pleasure was, and she was mine;
“Rarely abroad, or never, but with me,
“Or when by Pity call'd, or Charity;
These did to old Elizabeth invite,
Friendship's and Kindred's Bonds with these unite:
O'repowr'd at length she yields, and my consent
And company obtain'd, we onward went:
The fam'd Bethulia soon behind us leave,
And Kishon's Fords our weary Feet receive:
Thence fatal Gilboa's high Cliffs we crost,
Where David's much lamented Friend was lost:
Thro' Ephr'im's Lot our course directing down
Near the new Walls of Shemir's antient Town,
By Shechem where good Jacob once did dwell,
Near Dothan's Plain and Sychar's antient Well,
And Gerizim's proud Altar, rais'd in spite,
Accurs'd by every faithful Israelite:
By Jericho and Bethel next we past,
The first went thro', and near us leave the last;
And the third Noon, where Siloam gently falls
Discover antient Salem's sacred Walls;
Which leaving on the left, our course we bend
To Geba-Town our little Journeys end:
Near which, upon an easie Hill we see
The pleasant Seat of aged Zacharie:
'Twas neat, not proud; for Use, not Pomp or Fame;
Such as an humble Country Priest became:
He saw rich Fields below, which should be his,
Detain'd by Sacrilege and Avarice:
For Geba did of right to th' Priests belong,
Tho' Power and Time must justifie the wrong:
He saw, more griev'd than angry at their Crime,
And only pity'd those who injur'd him:
With his own small paternal Fields content;
Enough for Want, not Luxury they lent;
Blest by their Masters Pray'rs and watchful Eye,
And honest Servants careful Industry:
A Crystal Stream which from the Mountains stole,
Whose waters o'r the healthy Gravel roll
Before the Gate did gently murmuring run,
Gilt by the kindly Beams o'th' rising Sun:
The West a fair and spacious Prospect yields,
Where the pleas'd Eye is lost in Woods and Fields:
From the bleak North the Mountains Summit shields;
An Olive-Grove the Southern Heats defends,
Which shade, and Fruit, pleasure and profit lends;
Beyond whose Borders, where the Hill inclines
'Tis richly cover'd o'r with clust'ring Vines.
Thither arriv'd, old Zach'ry both embrac'd,
And at his hospitable Table plac'd,
All signs of welcome wanting words were shown,
Nor had he those, this Reason only known,
H'had some strange Vision in the Temple seen,
And ever since as strangely silent been:
Not so Eliza, who to meet us ran,
And to the Virgin thus, inspir'd began:
Nay, hardly Adoration cou'd forbear:
Thence to my wishes and my arms deny'd,
A Virgin-Mother and a Virgin-Bride,
She grac'd my humble Roof, and blest my Life,
Blest me by a far greater Name than Wife:
“Yet still I bore an undisputed sway,
“Nor was't her task, but pleasure to obey:
“Scarce thought, much less cou'd act, what I deny'd;
“In our low house there was no room for Pride:
“Nor need I e're direct what still was right,
“Still study'd my Convenience and Delight.
“Nor did I for her Care ungrateful prove,
“But only us'd my Pow'r, to shew my Love:
“What e're she askt I gave, without reproach or grudg,
“For still she Reason askt—and I was Judg:
“All my Commands Requests at her fair hands,
“And her Requests to me, were all Commands:
“To others Thresholds rarely she'd incline!
“Her House her pleasure was, and she was mine;
“Rarely abroad, or never, but with me,
“Or when by Pity call'd, or Charity;
These did to old Elizabeth invite,
Friendship's and Kindred's Bonds with these unite:
O'repowr'd at length she yields, and my consent
And company obtain'd, we onward went:
The fam'd Bethulia soon behind us leave,
And Kishon's Fords our weary Feet receive:
Thence fatal Gilboa's high Cliffs we crost,
Where David's much lamented Friend was lost:
Thro' Ephr'im's Lot our course directing down
Near the new Walls of Shemir's antient Town,
By Shechem where good Jacob once did dwell,
Near Dothan's Plain and Sychar's antient Well,
41
Accurs'd by every faithful Israelite:
By Jericho and Bethel next we past,
The first went thro', and near us leave the last;
And the third Noon, where Siloam gently falls
Discover antient Salem's sacred Walls;
Which leaving on the left, our course we bend
To Geba-Town our little Journeys end:
Near which, upon an easie Hill we see
The pleasant Seat of aged Zacharie:
'Twas neat, not proud; for Use, not Pomp or Fame;
Such as an humble Country Priest became:
He saw rich Fields below, which should be his,
Detain'd by Sacrilege and Avarice:
For Geba did of right to th' Priests belong,
Tho' Power and Time must justifie the wrong:
He saw, more griev'd than angry at their Crime,
And only pity'd those who injur'd him:
With his own small paternal Fields content;
Enough for Want, not Luxury they lent;
Blest by their Masters Pray'rs and watchful Eye,
And honest Servants careful Industry:
A Crystal Stream which from the Mountains stole,
Whose waters o'r the healthy Gravel roll
Before the Gate did gently murmuring run,
Gilt by the kindly Beams o'th' rising Sun:
The West a fair and spacious Prospect yields,
Where the pleas'd Eye is lost in Woods and Fields:
From the bleak North the Mountains Summit shields;
An Olive-Grove the Southern Heats defends,
Which shade, and Fruit, pleasure and profit lends;
Beyond whose Borders, where the Hill inclines
'Tis richly cover'd o'r with clust'ring Vines.
Thither arriv'd, old Zach'ry both embrac'd,
And at his hospitable Table plac'd,
All signs of welcome wanting words were shown,
Nor had he those, this Reason only known,
H'had some strange Vision in the Temple seen,
And ever since as strangely silent been:
Not so Eliza, who to meet us ran,
42
“Blest above Women shall thy Title be
“And yet more blest, thy wond'rous Child than thee!
“Whence is't the Mother of my God should grace
“With her high presence such an humble place?
“Nor sooner did my pleas'd and ravish'd Ear,
“Blest Virgin! the melodious accents hear
“Of thy lov'd Voice, but my prophetic Boy
“Perceiv'd and bounded in my Womb for Joy.
“And blest is she, whose noble Faith like thine,
“Expells all doubt of Truth and Power divine:
“Speedy performance shall thy wishes crown,
“And future Ages spred thy high renown.
The Virgin heard, Heav'n not her self she rais'd,
Kind Heav'n in everlasting Numbers prais'd.
“And yet more blest, thy wond'rous Child than thee!
“Whence is't the Mother of my God should grace
“With her high presence such an humble place?
“Nor sooner did my pleas'd and ravish'd Ear,
“Blest Virgin! the melodious accents hear
“Of thy lov'd Voice, but my prophetic Boy
“Perceiv'd and bounded in my Womb for Joy.
“And blest is she, whose noble Faith like thine,
“Expells all doubt of Truth and Power divine:
“Speedy performance shall thy wishes crown,
“And future Ages spred thy high renown.
The Virgin heard, Heav'n not her self she rais'd,
Kind Heav'n in everlasting Numbers prais'd.
Amidst these holy Hymns, which all around
From Saints and Angels in thy praise resound,
Thrice blessed Maid! may there be room for me
To throw my Mite into the Treasury?
As Heav'n did thine, my humble Gifts approve!
And since I have no Lambs, accept my Dove!
From Saints and Angels in thy praise resound,
Thrice blessed Maid! may there be room for me
To throw my Mite into the Treasury?
As Heav'n did thine, my humble Gifts approve!
And since I have no Lambs, accept my Dove!
“Hail Mary! may thy Glories still prevail!
“Great Mother of my God and Saviour, Hail!
“More blest than all our lost Forefathers Line!
“Blest above all our Sex, as well as thine!
“Above all mortals, only not divine!
“Only below thy Son I thee confess,
“And those who make thee more, but make thee less.
“Midst your triumphant Lauds, if ought you know,
“Ought that concerns our weary World below,
“Permit these praises far beneath your due,
“This humble Verse to be inscrib'd to you!
“Still wear they your lov'd name as their defence,
“And borrow Immortality from thence!
“Great Mother of my God and Saviour, Hail!
“More blest than all our lost Forefathers Line!
“Blest above all our Sex, as well as thine!
“Above all mortals, only not divine!
“Only below thy Son I thee confess,
“And those who make thee more, but make thee less.
“Midst your triumphant Lauds, if ought you know,
“Ought that concerns our weary World below,
“Permit these praises far beneath your due,
“This humble Verse to be inscrib'd to you!
“Still wear they your lov'd name as their defence,
“And borrow Immortality from thence!
“And after thee, O full of Charms and Grace!
“Let our great Mary fill the second place!
“For other Queens long maist thou look in vain,
“Others like her, to fill thy glorious Train.
“Humble like thee, like thee of Royal Line,
“Her Soul to Heav'n submiss, and bow'd like thine!
“Heav'n, which Immaculate her Form design'd,
“As a fit mansion for so fair a mind.
“(Sure none can e'r be Traitors, but the blind)
“Which gave her Eyes that Love and Awe inspire
“And cheer the World like the Sun's vital Fire:
“O may they—but that sawcy wish must dye;
“He melts his Plumes, who dares attempt so high:
“Yet I'll wish on, Retreats are now too late,
“And, Icarus, I court thy noble Fate—
“May they on these my humble Labours shine
“With their kind Influence gild each happy Line,
“Indue with purer Forms the coarser Ore,
“And stamp it Bullion, tho' 'twas dross before.
“Let our great Mary fill the second place!
“For other Queens long maist thou look in vain,
“Others like her, to fill thy glorious Train.
“Humble like thee, like thee of Royal Line,
“Her Soul to Heav'n submiss, and bow'd like thine!
43
“As a fit mansion for so fair a mind.
“(Sure none can e'r be Traitors, but the blind)
“Which gave her Eyes that Love and Awe inspire
“And cheer the World like the Sun's vital Fire:
“O may they—but that sawcy wish must dye;
“He melts his Plumes, who dares attempt so high:
“Yet I'll wish on, Retreats are now too late,
“And, Icarus, I court thy noble Fate—
“May they on these my humble Labours shine
“With their kind Influence gild each happy Line,
“Indue with purer Forms the coarser Ore,
“And stamp it Bullion, tho' 'twas dross before.
Sweet Muse return! to nobler strains aspire!
And touch, with utmost Art, the heav'nly Lyre!
With Seraphs sing his glorious humble Birth,
Who rais'd the beauteous Pile of Heav'n and Earth!
What reverend Joseph on his Oozy Seat,
What zealous Cephas did from him repeat;
Attent and pleas'd his Auditors appear;
The more they heard, the more they wisht to hear.
He fervent, thus goes on—
And touch, with utmost Art, the heav'nly Lyre!
With Seraphs sing his glorious humble Birth,
Who rais'd the beauteous Pile of Heav'n and Earth!
What reverend Joseph on his Oozy Seat,
What zealous Cephas did from him repeat;
Attent and pleas'd his Auditors appear;
The more they heard, the more they wisht to hear.
He fervent, thus goes on—
These, more than Friendly Salutations paid,
With old Elizabeth a while we staid,
Till thrice we saw the Silver Cynthia's wane,
And thrice she fill'd her various Orb again;
When the good Matrons welcom pains begun,
Who in her Arms soon held a wond'rous Son:
Her kindred much admiring round her sate,
And her so rare a Bliss congratulate:
And when they saw the eighth blest Sun arise,
Prepare the wond'rous Child to circumcise:
His Father's Name they gave, with kind presage,
As Hope and Staff of his declining Age:
And add their Prayers, that he as well might be
Heir of his Virtues, as his Family.
Well pleas'd Eliza bow'd, and wish'd the same,
With thanks, to all agreeing, but the Name,
All wond'ring, thus did she inspir'd proceed,
It must be John, for so high Heav'n decreed:
His Father askt, with speaking Eyes and Hands
Of those around Tablet and Style demands;
And when i'th' ductile Wax he'd stampt his mind,
The Name his Mother gave, surpriz'd we find:
Yet more, his Lips unloos'd when Hymns he sung,
And all the House with Hallelujahs rung:
Trembling we ask, on his reply intent,
What his strange Speech, and stranger Silence meant!
He thus—
With old Elizabeth a while we staid,
Till thrice we saw the Silver Cynthia's wane,
And thrice she fill'd her various Orb again;
When the good Matrons welcom pains begun,
Who in her Arms soon held a wond'rous Son:
Her kindred much admiring round her sate,
And her so rare a Bliss congratulate:
And when they saw the eighth blest Sun arise,
Prepare the wond'rous Child to circumcise:
His Father's Name they gave, with kind presage,
As Hope and Staff of his declining Age:
And add their Prayers, that he as well might be
Heir of his Virtues, as his Family.
Well pleas'd Eliza bow'd, and wish'd the same,
With thanks, to all agreeing, but the Name,
All wond'ring, thus did she inspir'd proceed,
It must be John, for so high Heav'n decreed:
44
Of those around Tablet and Style demands;
And when i'th' ductile Wax he'd stampt his mind,
The Name his Mother gave, surpriz'd we find:
Yet more, his Lips unloos'd when Hymns he sung,
And all the House with Hallelujahs rung:
Trembling we ask, on his reply intent,
What his strange Speech, and stranger Silence meant!
He thus—
As I with Incense did attend,
I saw great Gabriel in the Flame descend:
Of all who dearly love and guard mankind,
There's not a mightier or a fairer mind:
One hand he on the trembling Altar laid,
The other rais'd me from the ground afraid;
Th' All-wise, says he, has hear'd thy pious pray'r,
And thy Eliza shall embrace an Heir:
John be his destin'd Name, and Joy and Mirth
Shall fill thy House at his miraculous Birth:
Still dear in the Most High's impartial sight,
Devoted an abstemious Nazarite.
Divine Illapses daily he'll receive,
As much as he can take, or Heav'n can give:
T'illuminate his pure and piercing mind,
For that great work to which by Heav'n design'd.
His word like Thunder shall the World affright,
Exposing guilty Souls to conscious Light:
While crowds of penitents their Crimes shall mourn,
To God at once, and to themselves return.
The Prophet who prepares the Saviour's way,
The Morning-Star to the bright Prince of day.
I saw great Gabriel in the Flame descend:
Of all who dearly love and guard mankind,
There's not a mightier or a fairer mind:
One hand he on the trembling Altar laid,
The other rais'd me from the ground afraid;
Th' All-wise, says he, has hear'd thy pious pray'r,
And thy Eliza shall embrace an Heir:
John be his destin'd Name, and Joy and Mirth
Shall fill thy House at his miraculous Birth:
Still dear in the Most High's impartial sight,
Devoted an abstemious Nazarite.
Divine Illapses daily he'll receive,
As much as he can take, or Heav'n can give:
T'illuminate his pure and piercing mind,
For that great work to which by Heav'n design'd.
His word like Thunder shall the World affright,
Exposing guilty Souls to conscious Light:
While crowds of penitents their Crimes shall mourn,
To God at once, and to themselves return.
The Prophet who prepares the Saviour's way,
The Morning-Star to the bright Prince of day.
To this strange news I heard the Angel tell
When wonder made me yet an Infidel:
On his lov'd Face a Frown he quickly wore,
Which never sure was so disguis'd before;
Then thus, “Since Heav'n it self must speak in vain,
Nor Credence to its Oracles obtain;
At once experience Truth and Power divine
And be thy self unto thy self a Sign!
Till thy despair'd thy promis'd blessing come,
I seal thy Lips, and bid thee—thus be dumb!
When wonder made me yet an Infidel:
On his lov'd Face a Frown he quickly wore,
Which never sure was so disguis'd before;
Then thus, “Since Heav'n it self must speak in vain,
Nor Credence to its Oracles obtain;
At once experience Truth and Power divine
And be thy self unto thy self a Sign!
Till thy despair'd thy promis'd blessing come,
45
Trembling I kneel'd, and wou'd have mercy cry'd,
But 'twas too late—my fault'ring Tongue deny'd
T'express my lab'ring thoughts abrupt intent:
The Angel nods, as knowing what I meant,
And back in Curls of Incense smiling went.
With mental Pray'r I strait addrest th' All-high,
Nor cou'd those adamantine bonds unty;
Which voluntary now fall off again:
And since kind Heav'n at once has broke my Chain,
And giv'n such Joys, I'll that attempt to raise,
And thee, O never ending Goodness! praise.
Awake my Lyre, I'll strain each tuneful String!
Awake my Voice which he has taught to sing.
But 'twas too late—my fault'ring Tongue deny'd
T'express my lab'ring thoughts abrupt intent:
The Angel nods, as knowing what I meant,
And back in Curls of Incense smiling went.
With mental Pray'r I strait addrest th' All-high,
Nor cou'd those adamantine bonds unty;
Which voluntary now fall off again:
And since kind Heav'n at once has broke my Chain,
And giv'n such Joys, I'll that attempt to raise,
And thee, O never ending Goodness! praise.
Awake my Lyre, I'll strain each tuneful String!
Awake my Voice which he has taught to sing.
Zachary's Song.
Great
God of Israel! how shall we thy Laud express,
“And, never satisfi'd with praises bless?
Unutterable Goodness! how shall we
For all th' unutterable Blessings pay,
Of this triumphant happy day,
And what so largely we receive, restore to thee?
Who hast thy chosen Flock with gracious Eyes survey'd,
And visited with thine Almighty Aid!
A great Redemption for us wrought,
Surpassing our Desert or Thought,
Surpassing those when wand'ring wide
By Nilus and Euphrates side,
You sav'd from Egypt, and from Babel's pride.
Those only Types of this have been,
Those only were from Slavery, this from Sin.
“And, never satisfi'd with praises bless?
Unutterable Goodness! how shall we
For all th' unutterable Blessings pay,
Of this triumphant happy day,
And what so largely we receive, restore to thee?
Who hast thy chosen Flock with gracious Eyes survey'd,
And visited with thine Almighty Aid!
A great Redemption for us wrought,
Surpassing our Desert or Thought,
Surpassing those when wand'ring wide
By Nilus and Euphrates side,
You sav'd from Egypt, and from Babel's pride.
Those only Types of this have been,
Those only were from Slavery, this from Sin.
II.
Thee will we praise, thee will we sing,We'll sing with ardent Love and awful Fear;
Who hast to Sion brought a great Deliverer,
A mighty Saviour, and a mighty King!
That promis'd Branch of Jesse's sacred Stem,
46
Whom many an antient Seer did descry
Thro' the mysterious Glass of Prophecy,
In the vast Heav'n of dark futurity:
They saw his Day, tho' far remov'd.
And seeing smil'd, and smiling lov'd:
They saw great Juda's Kingly Lion, rouse,
And his lov'd Nations Cause espouse;
Vainly whole Troops against him rise,
This vainly fights, and that as vainly flies;
From their stern Jaws he tears away
Th' already half-devoured Prey,
And rends and tramples all our Enemies.
III.
Which of you shall my lofty Numbers grace,Ye great Fore-fathers of the chosen Race?
Thee Father Abraham, first I'll sing,
From whose blest Loins so many Nations spring,
The Favourite, the Friend of Heav'n's Almighty King!
He gave his Oath, and thou thy Son,
When the eternal League begun:
Offensive and Defensive 'tis,
His Enemies are ours, and ours are his:
His sacred Truth he did to witness take
While his strong Words the solid Center shake,
While Heav'n and Earth remain'd, he would not us forsake;
But guide us thro' fair Vertue's Paths, wherein
For ever walk sweet Peace and Innocence,
All mischief ever banish'd thence,
All Guilt and Danger far remov'd,
All that by him is disapprov'd,
And Fear, the Child of Sin.
IV.
Nor thee, thou strange prophetick Boy,By Heav'n inspir'd e'r thou didst come
From forth the Closet of the Womb,
Thy aged Parents Wonder, and their Joy:
Thee, tho' unsung, unheeded yet,
47
Thee who the happy News shalt bring,
The Harbinger of Heav'n's high King;
The Banners of his Grace display,
And scatter Pardons all the Way.
He comes, he comes! I see him swift advance,
He comes to our Deliverance:
I see his Orient Light arise
Scatt'ring ten thousand Suns around the Skies:
It flash'd thro' Chaos, whose wild Surges fell,
As when the first strange Day was made;
The Fiends were all of a new World afraid,
As wide it glar'd thro' all the inmost Caves of Hell.
If there it mov'd their Dread, though not their Love,
What Wonders shall it not perform above?
Sin to th' Abyss shall sink again,
“Death the great Slayer, shall himself be slain,
And Truth and Heav'n-born Peace for ever reign.
Thus sung the Holy Sire entranc'd, and we
Who heard, were little less in Extasie:
These triumphs finish'd, back we hast'ning come
To pleasant Nazareth, well weary'd home:
There fixing our abode, till now the Sun
Thro' three bright Signs his glorious Race had run,
Since we Judea left, and all our care,
Apply'd our homely Cottage to prepare
For the great Prince, and Heav'ns Almighty Heir;
Whose Birth approach'd, which now we knew so near,
Each Hour his Virgin Mothers Hope and Fear:
Enough we had for Need, though not for Pride,
Yet ev'n that small convenience soon deny'd;
The Roman Edict would not let us stay,
But to our Birth-place, Bethlehem call'd away;
The antient Seat of David's Royal Line,
Whence the bright Maids Original and mine:
And when for our new Journy we prepare,
Husht were the churlish Winds, serene the Air;
Departing Winters self grew calm and mild,
And as it went, put on smooth Looks and smil'd:
Whilst in our way officious Nature strows
The blew-ey'd Violet, and the blushing Rose:
Does, to oblige us, all her Glories bring,
And all the pretty Flow'rs that dress the Spring;
Narcissus, who too well himself did please,
The Iris proud, and rich Anemone's:
From Naz'reth's odoriferous Fields got free,
Hermon and beauteous Tabor soon we see:
Then o'r Kedummim's Streams our passage take,
Which lose themselves in the Tiberian Lake;
And thro' the well-known Road came joyful down:
On the third Night to Salem's sacred Town:
And our Devotions at the Temple pay'd
The next glad Morn, when there a while we stay'd,
We leave our Friends in the declining day,
And with discourse beguil'd the tedious Way:
Till when sweet Bethlem at a distance spy'd,
A secret Joy thro' all my Soul did glide;
Encreasing still, as still we came more near,
And Rachel's Tomb toth' right began t'appear:
Each noted place around, the Maid I show'd,
What e'r our Eyes could reach on either side the Road:
Tis there, said I, still flows that precious Spring,
Which his three Heroes did to David bring!
T'was there a Youth, he kept his Flock; and there
Met the curl'd Lyon and the rugged Bear.
Who heard, were little less in Extasie:
These triumphs finish'd, back we hast'ning come
To pleasant Nazareth, well weary'd home:
There fixing our abode, till now the Sun
Thro' three bright Signs his glorious Race had run,
Since we Judea left, and all our care,
Apply'd our homely Cottage to prepare
For the great Prince, and Heav'ns Almighty Heir;
Whose Birth approach'd, which now we knew so near,
Each Hour his Virgin Mothers Hope and Fear:
Enough we had for Need, though not for Pride,
Yet ev'n that small convenience soon deny'd;
The Roman Edict would not let us stay,
But to our Birth-place, Bethlehem call'd away;
The antient Seat of David's Royal Line,
Whence the bright Maids Original and mine:
And when for our new Journy we prepare,
Husht were the churlish Winds, serene the Air;
Departing Winters self grew calm and mild,
And as it went, put on smooth Looks and smil'd:
48
The blew-ey'd Violet, and the blushing Rose:
Does, to oblige us, all her Glories bring,
And all the pretty Flow'rs that dress the Spring;
Narcissus, who too well himself did please,
The Iris proud, and rich Anemone's:
From Naz'reth's odoriferous Fields got free,
Hermon and beauteous Tabor soon we see:
Then o'r Kedummim's Streams our passage take,
Which lose themselves in the Tiberian Lake;
And thro' the well-known Road came joyful down:
On the third Night to Salem's sacred Town:
And our Devotions at the Temple pay'd
The next glad Morn, when there a while we stay'd,
We leave our Friends in the declining day,
And with discourse beguil'd the tedious Way:
Till when sweet Bethlem at a distance spy'd,
A secret Joy thro' all my Soul did glide;
Encreasing still, as still we came more near,
And Rachel's Tomb toth' right began t'appear:
Each noted place around, the Maid I show'd,
What e'r our Eyes could reach on either side the Road:
Tis there, said I, still flows that precious Spring,
Which his three Heroes did to David bring!
T'was there a Youth, he kept his Flock; and there
Met the curl'd Lyon and the rugged Bear.
She shreekt and claspt me to her trembling Breast,
Then begg'd me that I would not tell the rest!
Then begg'd me that I would not tell the rest!
And now the Night her sable Veil had spread,
Each little Bird coucht in its mossy Bed,
And Fowls of stronger Wing to distant Regions fled;
As we to Bethlem's Walls well weary'd come,
And hear the busie Towns tumultuous Hum;
Whole Droves like us we see, who came too late,
Crowding to enter e'r they shut the Gate:
And there so long we for admittance wait,
Till we i'th' Windows glim'ring Lights descry,
Extinct in some, discovering Midnight nigh:
With Fears o'th' Night, and Toyls o'th' Day opprest,
Long did we seek a Place for welcom Rest.
The Streets and Suburbs sought, but sought in vain,
New disappointments still increase our Pain.
Each little Bird coucht in its mossy Bed,
And Fowls of stronger Wing to distant Regions fled;
As we to Bethlem's Walls well weary'd come,
And hear the busie Towns tumultuous Hum;
Whole Droves like us we see, who came too late,
Crowding to enter e'r they shut the Gate:
And there so long we for admittance wait,
Till we i'th' Windows glim'ring Lights descry,
Extinct in some, discovering Midnight nigh:
With Fears o'th' Night, and Toyls o'th' Day opprest,
Long did we seek a Place for welcom Rest.
49
New disappointments still increase our Pain.
And now new Griefs my much lov'd charge o'erpow'r,
Who fast approaching found that fatal hour
Of which her Sex so justly is affraid,
No more than that of Death to be delay'd:
“O my distracted Heart! forlorn and poor,
“Repell'd at each unhospitable Door,
“Strangers, benighted, tired, and yet far more
“Still more than all, and what I could not bear,
“What more than Life I lov'd must feel the largest share.
“How false th' opinion that it gives relief
“To have a sad Companion in our Grief?
“Afflictions stroaks more thick and heavy fall
“When both each others feel, and both bear all.
“Yet quiet still her Breast; to Heaven resign'd;
“In an uneasie Body calm her mind;
“Not one impatient sigh or word let go,
“These only from her Lips divinely flow
“It must be best for Heav'n will have it so.
“We may not murmur, tho' we justly give,
“And spite of clam'rous sence let's still believe!
Sham'd with the kind reproof I soon represt
My wayward Thoughts, and calm'd my murm'ring Breast;
This done, I to a well known Cave repair
Which her might shield, for whom my chiefest care
From the moist Heav'ns, and Nights unwholsom Air.
In storms a refuge to the panting Swains
When sudden Sleet came driving cross the Plains.
Whether by Art hew'd in the living Stone
Or Mother Natures antient work, unknown:
Short stubble and light reed, which our low state
Did best become, I gather'd at the Gate;
These to the Virgin for her Couch I gave,
Plac'd in the inmost Corner of the Cave:
Such pomp did David's Royal Heir assume,
Such was the Furniture, and such the Room:
The rest a Choire of modest Angels brings,
But veil their Faces with their purple Wings.
Who fast approaching found that fatal hour
Of which her Sex so justly is affraid,
No more than that of Death to be delay'd:
“O my distracted Heart! forlorn and poor,
“Repell'd at each unhospitable Door,
“Strangers, benighted, tired, and yet far more
“Still more than all, and what I could not bear,
“What more than Life I lov'd must feel the largest share.
“How false th' opinion that it gives relief
“To have a sad Companion in our Grief?
“Afflictions stroaks more thick and heavy fall
“When both each others feel, and both bear all.
“Yet quiet still her Breast; to Heaven resign'd;
“In an uneasie Body calm her mind;
“Not one impatient sigh or word let go,
“These only from her Lips divinely flow
“It must be best for Heav'n will have it so.
“We may not murmur, tho' we justly give,
“And spite of clam'rous sence let's still believe!
Sham'd with the kind reproof I soon represt
My wayward Thoughts, and calm'd my murm'ring Breast;
This done, I to a well known Cave repair
Which her might shield, for whom my chiefest care
From the moist Heav'ns, and Nights unwholsom Air.
In storms a refuge to the panting Swains
When sudden Sleet came driving cross the Plains.
Whether by Art hew'd in the living Stone
Or Mother Natures antient work, unknown:
Short stubble and light reed, which our low state
Did best become, I gather'd at the Gate;
These to the Virgin for her Couch I gave,
Plac'd in the inmost Corner of the Cave:
Such pomp did David's Royal Heir assume,
Such was the Furniture, and such the Room:
The rest a Choire of modest Angels brings,
But veil their Faces with their purple Wings.
And now thro' liquid Air the silent Moon
In silver Chariot mounts to her pale Noon:
Still was the Night as Innocence or Fear,
Nor humane Sounds, nor grazing Beasts we hear;
Faint did the Lamp on neighb'ring Edar burn,
By snatches shin'd awhile, then sunk into its Urn.
The very Stars with drowsie motions roll,
The Bear walks heavily around the Pole:
When spite of all my Cares I slumb'ring lay
Tir'd with the Toils and sorrows of the day.
Till a strong light thro' my clos'd Eye-lids shin'd,
As the Sun's mid-day glories chear the blind:
Wond'ring I wake, and strait surpriz'd behold
The Cave all delug'd with etherial Gold:
Glories almost too fine for grosser sence,
And num'rous shining Forms departing thence:
The Virgin too I saw, so brightly drest
I hardly cou'd discern her from the rest.
“In her chast Arms the eternal Infant lies:
What an illustrious goodness in his Eyes?
Which soon alike both Lights and Shades o'erpow'rs,
And all the modest Beams around devours:
I kneell'd adoring, and my Eyes imploy
T'assist my fault'ring Tongue, and speak my joy:
Tho' from my pleasing Trance soon rais'd by Fear,
For nigh the Cave I humane Footsteps hear
And rustic sounds confus'd, which as they grew
More loud, before the Gate my self I threw,
With feeble force my precious charge to shield
From the rude Swains returning from the field;
For such I thought 'em, till at length I spy,
As the fair morn began to gild the Sky
A Troop of harmless Shepherds mild and good,
Who near me on their sheephooks leaning stood,
And bowing low, for the bright Babe inquire,
The hope of Israel and the worlds desire:
Wond'ring from whence so soon they heard the news
I askt, nor they to clear my doubts refuse.
Two sprightly Lads, who could relate it best,
With Chaplets crown'd leapt forth from all the rest;
Claius, who lately the leud Town had left
Of all his long his foolish Hopes bereft,
Tho' bounteous Heav'n whate'er he now thought dear
Indulg'd, in Peace and his Urania here:
Strephon, a jolly youth, who did pretend
To be, and was, e'er Love bred Hate, his Friend:
Tho since too oft, on many a vain pretence
He left the Plains and left his Innocence.
His Soul no track of Modesty or Grace
Retains, as steel'd and harden'd as his Face:
Foul as those loathsom Brands his Body bears,
And black as that dissembled Robe he wears:
For now he do's in other Garments shrowd
His ugly Vice. I saw him late, too proud
Claius his Friend, or ev'n himself to own,
In Town by Malchi's nobler Title known;
Where with those Priests he bands, whose daily Theme
Is their still patient Saviour to blaspheme:
Not so ere while when innocent and young
With Claius thus his Birth he sweetly sung.
50
Still was the Night as Innocence or Fear,
Nor humane Sounds, nor grazing Beasts we hear;
Faint did the Lamp on neighb'ring Edar burn,
By snatches shin'd awhile, then sunk into its Urn.
The very Stars with drowsie motions roll,
The Bear walks heavily around the Pole:
When spite of all my Cares I slumb'ring lay
Tir'd with the Toils and sorrows of the day.
Till a strong light thro' my clos'd Eye-lids shin'd,
As the Sun's mid-day glories chear the blind:
Wond'ring I wake, and strait surpriz'd behold
The Cave all delug'd with etherial Gold:
Glories almost too fine for grosser sence,
And num'rous shining Forms departing thence:
The Virgin too I saw, so brightly drest
I hardly cou'd discern her from the rest.
“In her chast Arms the eternal Infant lies:
What an illustrious goodness in his Eyes?
Which soon alike both Lights and Shades o'erpow'rs,
And all the modest Beams around devours:
I kneell'd adoring, and my Eyes imploy
T'assist my fault'ring Tongue, and speak my joy:
Tho' from my pleasing Trance soon rais'd by Fear,
For nigh the Cave I humane Footsteps hear
And rustic sounds confus'd, which as they grew
More loud, before the Gate my self I threw,
With feeble force my precious charge to shield
From the rude Swains returning from the field;
For such I thought 'em, till at length I spy,
As the fair morn began to gild the Sky
A Troop of harmless Shepherds mild and good,
Who near me on their sheephooks leaning stood,
And bowing low, for the bright Babe inquire,
The hope of Israel and the worlds desire:
Wond'ring from whence so soon they heard the news
I askt, nor they to clear my doubts refuse.
Two sprightly Lads, who could relate it best,
With Chaplets crown'd leapt forth from all the rest;
Claius, who lately the leud Town had left
51
Tho' bounteous Heav'n whate'er he now thought dear
Indulg'd, in Peace and his Urania here:
Strephon, a jolly youth, who did pretend
To be, and was, e'er Love bred Hate, his Friend:
Tho since too oft, on many a vain pretence
He left the Plains and left his Innocence.
His Soul no track of Modesty or Grace
Retains, as steel'd and harden'd as his Face:
Foul as those loathsom Brands his Body bears,
And black as that dissembled Robe he wears:
For now he do's in other Garments shrowd
His ugly Vice. I saw him late, too proud
Claius his Friend, or ev'n himself to own,
In Town by Malchi's nobler Title known;
Where with those Priests he bands, whose daily Theme
Is their still patient Saviour to blaspheme:
Not so ere while when innocent and young
With Claius thus his Birth he sweetly sung.
Christmas Caroll.
Strephon.How Claius—are we dumb with Joy?
Come tune thy Pipe to Carols sweet!
Let's welcom the celestial Boy,
And throw our Garlands at his Feet!
Claius.
I have a Lamb as pure as Snow
Which my Urania smiling gave;
Yet shall he to his Altars goe
Nor shall her Eyes the Victim save.
Strephon.
Mistaken Swain! he ne'er requires
That with such off'rings we should part:
Go give him pure and fair desires,
And praise him with an humble heart!
Claius.
Then all my hopes and all my fears
I'll to their antient Lord restore,
And all my sighs and all my tears,
His Love obtain'd, I ask no more.
52
When thus each others rural skill they'd try'd
To my desire young Claius thus reply'd:
As in yon Plain that stretches wide away
Near Edars Tow'r to guard our Flocks we lay,
The Night, as honest Shepherds use, we spent,
In Tales and Songs and harmless merriment:
On antient Heroes stories some proceed,
Who not disdaind to touch the tuneful reed:
Old Father Jacob's Travels these relate,
And these unstable Ruben's crime and fate:
Others that valiant Ephratean Swain
Who vast Goliah quell'd on Elahs plain;
How with his Praises all the Valleys rung;
How well he fought how well he lov'd and sung.
While thus, on Earths soft Couch employ'd we lay
From neighbouring Cottages the Bird of Day
Loud sounds his first alarm, and every star
Revolving swift thro' Heav'ns high Arch declare
Their Noon was past, and Night began to wear:
When on a sudden aged Ægon cries
See Shepherds see, descending from the Skies
Yon light! Kind Heav'n! What mean these Prodigies?
The Sun it cannot be, for Night's not done,
And almost half his Under-Day to run;
Besides, it mounts not, but oblique descends,
And hitherwards its wondrous Journy bends—
—He trembling said, but soon no more cou'd say;
For the next moment all around was day;
The Ewes disturb'd arose and scatter'd wide,
The little Lambs ran bleating by their side:
Our faithful Dogs coucht on the ground affraid,
And none besides my old Lycisca bay'd:
Profound we prostrate lay, long groveling there,
Nor cou'd th' unsufferable splendor bear:
Till a fair Youth, as my Urania fair
Sweet Peace and Heav'n-born Joy descending brings,
As soft he touch'd us with his purple wings.
To my desire young Claius thus reply'd:
As in yon Plain that stretches wide away
Near Edars Tow'r to guard our Flocks we lay,
The Night, as honest Shepherds use, we spent,
In Tales and Songs and harmless merriment:
On antient Heroes stories some proceed,
Who not disdaind to touch the tuneful reed:
Old Father Jacob's Travels these relate,
And these unstable Ruben's crime and fate:
Others that valiant Ephratean Swain
Who vast Goliah quell'd on Elahs plain;
How with his Praises all the Valleys rung;
How well he fought how well he lov'd and sung.
While thus, on Earths soft Couch employ'd we lay
From neighbouring Cottages the Bird of Day
Loud sounds his first alarm, and every star
Revolving swift thro' Heav'ns high Arch declare
Their Noon was past, and Night began to wear:
When on a sudden aged Ægon cries
See Shepherds see, descending from the Skies
Yon light! Kind Heav'n! What mean these Prodigies?
The Sun it cannot be, for Night's not done,
And almost half his Under-Day to run;
Besides, it mounts not, but oblique descends,
And hitherwards its wondrous Journy bends—
—He trembling said, but soon no more cou'd say;
For the next moment all around was day;
The Ewes disturb'd arose and scatter'd wide,
The little Lambs ran bleating by their side:
Our faithful Dogs coucht on the ground affraid,
And none besides my old Lycisca bay'd:
Profound we prostrate lay, long groveling there,
Nor cou'd th' unsufferable splendor bear:
Till a fair Youth, as my Urania fair
Sweet Peace and Heav'n-born Joy descending brings,
As soft he touch'd us with his purple wings.
Blest Swains, let no vain Terrors you affright!
Believe 'tis no Illusion of the Night!
To you, he cry'd, I happy tidings bring
From yon fair place, and Heav'ns Almighty King.
To you, the Lamb of God, this happy morn
To you, the Saviour of the World is born
In Ephratean Bethlem, where of old
The Royal Swain so well did guard his Fold;
You'll find him wrapt in feeble Infants bands
Who grasps all Nature with his mighty hands.
A Cave and homely Stable claim his birth
Who rais'd the goodly Pile of Heav'n and Earth.
—He said and strait we saw the welkin wide
Throng'd with the Heav'nly Host from side to side;
Thick as those glitt'ring motes that ever stray
And dance in the refulgent Beams of day;
Night and our Fear they both from us remove,
And thus repeat those Hymns they learn'd above.
Believe 'tis no Illusion of the Night!
To you, he cry'd, I happy tidings bring
53
To you, the Lamb of God, this happy morn
To you, the Saviour of the World is born
In Ephratean Bethlem, where of old
The Royal Swain so well did guard his Fold;
You'll find him wrapt in feeble Infants bands
Who grasps all Nature with his mighty hands.
A Cave and homely Stable claim his birth
Who rais'd the goodly Pile of Heav'n and Earth.
—He said and strait we saw the welkin wide
Throng'd with the Heav'nly Host from side to side;
Thick as those glitt'ring motes that ever stray
And dance in the refulgent Beams of day;
Night and our Fear they both from us remove,
And thus repeat those Hymns they learn'd above.
Song of the Angels.
I
Glory to our great King on high!To Heav'ns Imperial Majesty!
To him that sits upon the Throne,
“The' ador'd Three-One!
II
Peace from the Prince of Peace we bring;An Amnesty from Heavn's high King.
Who at his First-born's welcom birth
Scatters pardons round the Earth.
III
Thunders we must use no moreIn which the Law was preacht before,
But strive ingenuous Man to move
With mild Good-will and Heav'nly Love.
Thus Hymning, by degrees they leave our sight
And hitherward direct their parting Light.
Here, Father, we arriv'd—
On that bright Babe desire to feast our Eyes,
The subject of so many prophesies!
They said, to their request consent I gave
And introduc'd 'em to the well known Cave;
With greedy Eyes when his lov'd Face they spy'd,
On his lov'd Face they gaz'd unsatisfi'd;
Sill more surpriz'd more miracles behold!
Each humble Straw indues the form of Gold.
Thro' the dark Cave they see new day arise,
Projected round from his illustrious Eyes;
These o'er the Gates their rustic Garlands hung,
These Flow'rs and Herbs around profusely flung;
And these the Child and these the Mother sung:
While others from the Rock live Hony bear,
Or fragrant Balms inestimable Tear:
Their humble presents paid, they part again,
And spred the joyful news o'er all the Plain.
And hitherward direct their parting Light.
Here, Father, we arriv'd—
54
The subject of so many prophesies!
They said, to their request consent I gave
And introduc'd 'em to the well known Cave;
With greedy Eyes when his lov'd Face they spy'd,
On his lov'd Face they gaz'd unsatisfi'd;
Sill more surpriz'd more miracles behold!
Each humble Straw indues the form of Gold.
Thro' the dark Cave they see new day arise,
Projected round from his illustrious Eyes;
These o'er the Gates their rustic Garlands hung,
These Flow'rs and Herbs around profusely flung;
And these the Child and these the Mother sung:
While others from the Rock live Hony bear,
Or fragrant Balms inestimable Tear:
Their humble presents paid, they part again,
And spred the joyful news o'er all the Plain.
Sev'en times bright Hesper now had clos'd the Day,
As oft sweet Phosphor warn'd the Stars away:
The eighth glad morn arising, when we bear
The Holy Infant to the House of Pray'r;
Whence, as the Law directs, that mark he wore
On all our pious Fathers stampt before;
Inscrib'd in Blood upon his tender skin,
Altho' he knew no stain of guilt or sin,
And the next Moon elaps'd, as custom calls,
Agen we speed for antient Salems walls;
Our dear first born, so Holy rites require
To dedicate to his immortal Sire.
Nor sooner to the Temple Gates we came
But th' Incense with a clear and generous flame
Shot strait to Heav'n.—The pious Mother went
Her off'ring to his Father to present;
And her two Turtles, innocent as they,
Did near the Sacred Altar trembling lay:
But scarce the double Sacrifice was done,
To purge the Mother and present the Son;
When thro' the admiring Croud old Simeon came
Of noted Virtue and umblemisht Fame;
To whom when cold decrepid Age had spred
The Snow of fourscore Winters on his head,
As he one Evening in the Temple stay'd
And for sad Israel's wish'd redemption pray'd,
A Heav'nly Youth of those who waited there
Indues a thin-spun Robe of ambient Air
And bids the aged Father not despair,
For tho' too short his Thread of Life were spun
Too many precious Sands already run,
Him vainly threatning Death shou'd not surprize
Till the Messia blest his longing Eyes:
The same bright Form appear'd this happy day
As on his face in pray'r he prostrate lay;
And from his Closet beckon'd him away:
With Joy the good old man the signal takes,
And, all extatick, to the Temple makes:
In hast he chearful came, erect, alone,
His useless Crutches now aside were thrown:
Thro' all the crowd of Priests and suppliants press'd,
Then seiz'd the Child and laid him at his Breast;
With his dear burden to the Altar ran
And thus, with sacred rage inspir'd, began.
As oft sweet Phosphor warn'd the Stars away:
The eighth glad morn arising, when we bear
The Holy Infant to the House of Pray'r;
Whence, as the Law directs, that mark he wore
On all our pious Fathers stampt before;
Inscrib'd in Blood upon his tender skin,
Altho' he knew no stain of guilt or sin,
And the next Moon elaps'd, as custom calls,
Agen we speed for antient Salems walls;
Our dear first born, so Holy rites require
To dedicate to his immortal Sire.
Nor sooner to the Temple Gates we came
But th' Incense with a clear and generous flame
Shot strait to Heav'n.—The pious Mother went
Her off'ring to his Father to present;
And her two Turtles, innocent as they,
Did near the Sacred Altar trembling lay:
But scarce the double Sacrifice was done,
To purge the Mother and present the Son;
When thro' the admiring Croud old Simeon came
Of noted Virtue and umblemisht Fame;
To whom when cold decrepid Age had spred
55
As he one Evening in the Temple stay'd
And for sad Israel's wish'd redemption pray'd,
A Heav'nly Youth of those who waited there
Indues a thin-spun Robe of ambient Air
And bids the aged Father not despair,
For tho' too short his Thread of Life were spun
Too many precious Sands already run,
Him vainly threatning Death shou'd not surprize
Till the Messia blest his longing Eyes:
The same bright Form appear'd this happy day
As on his face in pray'r he prostrate lay;
And from his Closet beckon'd him away:
With Joy the good old man the signal takes,
And, all extatick, to the Temple makes:
In hast he chearful came, erect, alone,
His useless Crutches now aside were thrown:
Thro' all the crowd of Priests and suppliants press'd,
Then seiz'd the Child and laid him at his Breast;
With his dear burden to the Altar ran
And thus, with sacred rage inspir'd, began.
Simeon's Song, or the Nunc Dimittis.
I
Yes, Now thy Servant dies, he gladly dies!This Life, dear Lord! prolong no more,
But as you promis'd me before
In peace now close mine Eyes!
Mine Eyes which that dear object now has met
For which so long they gaz'd in vain,
For whose delay so long I did complain:
I've seen the Sun of Righteousness arise;
'Tis time my glimm'ring Lamps forsake the Skies
And in the shades of Death for ever set.
II
The World already hails his welcom birth:Already humble Gifts prepare
To meet and bless th' Almighty Heir
The King of Heav'n and Earth:
56
Him Heathen Lands their Lord shall own,
Their Lord and God, him who alone
Not only giveth sight but Eyes toth' blind.
III
Ah stupid Nation! Wilt thou still refuseStill hate thy Saviour? Ah thrice harden'd Jews!
(Grant Heav'n these boding fears may not be true!)
Rejected by your Prince, as he by you!
But Ah! What cruel Truths I see
In the dark Womb of future days?
To what a cursed Throne will you your Saviour raise?
How will you crown with Thorns and Infamy?
What wounds, what swords, Great Mother, are prepar'd for thee?
IV
But with our sufferings Heav'n's at last inclin'dFor see a glorious Scene behind!
He comes he comes, agen these Eyes shall see,
Agen, dear Saviour, welcom thee!
The Cloud thy Chariot, and thy Wings the Wind,
In Zion shall appear
The great deliverer.
My stubborn Nation then shall strive no more,
But him whom once they peirc'd, adore:
Now Israels Glory, as their shame before.
He said, when strait to bliss his soul retir'd,
And slumb'ring soft he with a smile expir'd.
And slumb'ring soft he with a smile expir'd.
New wonders still arise as these are past,
Like Waves, the first confounded in the last.
Each Sex, as well as Age, their Lord confess,
A Prophet first, and now a Prophetess.
Anna, a Matron Sage, and whilst a Wife
For spotless Faith renown'd, and holy Life;
Old Phanuels Heir, of Asher's fruitful Race
Fam'd in her Youth for matchless Mind and Face,
Sought by a hundred Woers, nor deny'd,
To bless the happiest by the name of Bride:
Seven years they liv'd and no Dissension knew;
Tho' One at first, yet still more one they grew:
Their Thoughts, their Wishes, nay their Souls the same,
In nought they differ'd but in Sex and Name:
So intimately close the knot was ty'd,
That Death it self cou'd hardly them divide:
And when th' untimely Grave had him receiv'd,
And her of more than her own Life bereav'd,
She wonder'd how, and scarce believ'd she liv'd;
All thoughts of any second Love defies,
And to all worldly Joy and Pleasure dies;
Within the Temple waiting the blest hour,
Which her might to her much-lov'd Lord restore:
Her earthly Frame by Fasts so far refin'd,
That little now was left but perfect mind:
Oft her pure Soul to Heav'n wou'd take its flight
Lost and absorpt in Glory infinite:
Retir'd as oft, no Look, no Thought abroad,
Nothing she knew besides her self and God;
Nay sometimes scarce distinct her self cou'd call;
Abstracted from her self, for God was all.
What darling Visions, not to be exprest,
Her constant fervent pure Devotions blest!
What Beatific Glories warm'd her Breast!
What crowds of beautious Seraphs left the Choir,
At once, to imitate her and admire!
What mystic Truths by them to her reveal'd,
To all, but them and Heav'n it self, conceal'd!
From these she learns what strikes weak Reason dumb,
What tries ev'n Faith, that God shou'd Man become:
She learn'd the time, the day, the hour precise,
When we approach'd to bring our Sacrifice:
What Joy, what Exultation she express'd,
And hail'd her Saviour at the Virgins breast?
Nor half content that him her self she h'd found;
How gladly spred she the glad News around
To all the Just, by her and Heav'n approv'd,
To all who a Redeemer wish'd and lov'd?
This much, tho' what remains did more surprize,
For Fame reports three Princes great and wise,
Were late arriv'd, from near the Suns uprise;
From the fair Fields of happy Araby,
Judea's strange expected Prince to see;
Conducted safely by a wondrous Star
Cross all those sandy Worlds, outstretching far
Thro' the wide Wilderness, until at last,
To Moab's pleasant Plains and Hills they past;
Near Edom's Mount to Jordan's doubtful Brim,
'Twixt Selah and the cloudy Abarim:
Crossing the Flood, as it by Gilgal falls,
They soon arriv'd at antient Salems Walls;
And boldly for the new born King enquire,
The hope of Isr'el, and the Worlds desire!
Proud Herod heard, and trembled at the news,
Whose heavy Tyranny the injur'd Jews
So long had sighing born; nor they alone,
His very Friends beneath his Axes groan,
With his own blood he dyes his slipp'ry Throne.
Not all his sordid Flatt'rers now avail'd;
Their Hearts, as well as their fierce Tyrants fail'd;
Tho' him so late they their Messia hail'd:
Howe'er that Savage Wolf the Fox indu'd,
Awkwardly pious seem'd, and strangely good:
The Sages to his stately Palace brings,
And plac'd 'em in Apartments fit for Kings:
Dissembling Hospitable Piety,
Aloud he prais'd their Zeal and Industry:
Blest be th' unutterable Name! Said he,
Who ev'n to Gentile Worlds, so long conceal'd,
At last has our great promis'd Prince reveal'd!
O might we but the Royal Infant greet,
And throw our Crowns and Scepters at his Feet?
How much, how infinitely blest we were,
If to his Fathers House we him might bear?
How happy, might we wait and serve him there?
Thus close his Nets the sanguine Tyrant plac'd,
(For when our humble Roof the Sages grac'd,
They all repeated,) thus did them deceive,
So easily will Innocence believe;
So firmly on his Royal word they lean'd;
Who instantly the Sanhedrim conven'd:
Sollicitous he askt that happy place,
Which the Messia's glorious birth shou'd grace?
If it their antient Sacred Books declare;
—As I remember, you, learn'd Sir, was there,
Fair Rama's Lord to wise Gamaliel cry'd,
When this propos'd—'Tis true, the Sage reply'd;
That morning in the Sanhedrim I sate,
And 'twas by all resolv'd, on the debate,
That humble Bethle'm, David's antient seat,
Must by his God-like Off-springs birth be great:
As thus, inspir'd, the fam'd Morasthite sung,
While with his lofty sounds fair Salems Mountains rung.
Like Waves, the first confounded in the last.
Each Sex, as well as Age, their Lord confess,
A Prophet first, and now a Prophetess.
Anna, a Matron Sage, and whilst a Wife
For spotless Faith renown'd, and holy Life;
Old Phanuels Heir, of Asher's fruitful Race
Fam'd in her Youth for matchless Mind and Face,
57
To bless the happiest by the name of Bride:
Seven years they liv'd and no Dissension knew;
Tho' One at first, yet still more one they grew:
Their Thoughts, their Wishes, nay their Souls the same,
In nought they differ'd but in Sex and Name:
So intimately close the knot was ty'd,
That Death it self cou'd hardly them divide:
And when th' untimely Grave had him receiv'd,
And her of more than her own Life bereav'd,
She wonder'd how, and scarce believ'd she liv'd;
All thoughts of any second Love defies,
And to all worldly Joy and Pleasure dies;
Within the Temple waiting the blest hour,
Which her might to her much-lov'd Lord restore:
Her earthly Frame by Fasts so far refin'd,
That little now was left but perfect mind:
Oft her pure Soul to Heav'n wou'd take its flight
Lost and absorpt in Glory infinite:
Retir'd as oft, no Look, no Thought abroad,
Nothing she knew besides her self and God;
Nay sometimes scarce distinct her self cou'd call;
Abstracted from her self, for God was all.
What darling Visions, not to be exprest,
Her constant fervent pure Devotions blest!
What Beatific Glories warm'd her Breast!
What crowds of beautious Seraphs left the Choir,
At once, to imitate her and admire!
What mystic Truths by them to her reveal'd,
To all, but them and Heav'n it self, conceal'd!
From these she learns what strikes weak Reason dumb,
What tries ev'n Faith, that God shou'd Man become:
She learn'd the time, the day, the hour precise,
When we approach'd to bring our Sacrifice:
What Joy, what Exultation she express'd,
And hail'd her Saviour at the Virgins breast?
Nor half content that him her self she h'd found;
How gladly spred she the glad News around
To all the Just, by her and Heav'n approv'd,
To all who a Redeemer wish'd and lov'd?
58
For Fame reports three Princes great and wise,
Were late arriv'd, from near the Suns uprise;
From the fair Fields of happy Araby,
Judea's strange expected Prince to see;
Conducted safely by a wondrous Star
Cross all those sandy Worlds, outstretching far
Thro' the wide Wilderness, until at last,
To Moab's pleasant Plains and Hills they past;
Near Edom's Mount to Jordan's doubtful Brim,
'Twixt Selah and the cloudy Abarim:
Crossing the Flood, as it by Gilgal falls,
They soon arriv'd at antient Salems Walls;
And boldly for the new born King enquire,
The hope of Isr'el, and the Worlds desire!
Proud Herod heard, and trembled at the news,
Whose heavy Tyranny the injur'd Jews
So long had sighing born; nor they alone,
His very Friends beneath his Axes groan,
With his own blood he dyes his slipp'ry Throne.
Not all his sordid Flatt'rers now avail'd;
Their Hearts, as well as their fierce Tyrants fail'd;
Tho' him so late they their Messia hail'd:
Howe'er that Savage Wolf the Fox indu'd,
Awkwardly pious seem'd, and strangely good:
The Sages to his stately Palace brings,
And plac'd 'em in Apartments fit for Kings:
Dissembling Hospitable Piety,
Aloud he prais'd their Zeal and Industry:
Blest be th' unutterable Name! Said he,
Who ev'n to Gentile Worlds, so long conceal'd,
At last has our great promis'd Prince reveal'd!
O might we but the Royal Infant greet,
And throw our Crowns and Scepters at his Feet?
How much, how infinitely blest we were,
If to his Fathers House we him might bear?
How happy, might we wait and serve him there?
Thus close his Nets the sanguine Tyrant plac'd,
(For when our humble Roof the Sages grac'd,
They all repeated,) thus did them deceive,
59
So firmly on his Royal word they lean'd;
Who instantly the Sanhedrim conven'd:
Sollicitous he askt that happy place,
Which the Messia's glorious birth shou'd grace?
If it their antient Sacred Books declare;
—As I remember, you, learn'd Sir, was there,
Fair Rama's Lord to wise Gamaliel cry'd,
When this propos'd—'Tis true, the Sage reply'd;
That morning in the Sanhedrim I sate,
And 'twas by all resolv'd, on the debate,
That humble Bethle'm, David's antient seat,
Must by his God-like Off-springs birth be great:
As thus, inspir'd, the fam'd Morasthite sung,
While with his lofty sounds fair Salems Mountains rung.
Micah's Prophesie.
Let Salem boast her antient Kings,Salem, which Princely David sings;
And Shemir's vain Apostate Town,
Her Gods, her strength, her pleasure and renown!
Bethl'hem alone's my noble choice,
That claims my Lyre and claims my Voice,
In that shall Israel's Land and Gentile-Worlds rejoice;
Tho mean thou art and humble now,
Wide shall thy spreading Glories grow,
And all around, like fruitful Jordan, overflow:
For if a Kings or Heroes Seat,
Must by his Residence be great,
All others infinitely this o'erpow'rs,
Where Heav'ns high King is born, as well as ours.
Already I the Royal Infant see,
How long his Rule, how vast his Realms shall be?
Thro' boundless Space and Time he Reigns eternally!
—The same, my Friend, says Cephas, did repeat
The same to him, the Magi, wise and great.
(Tho' that before, and much beside he knew,
Which from the Sacred Oracles he drew.)
Nor they the humble Bethl'hems Walls disdain'd,
Nor long in Herod's glittering Courts remain'd;
Thence hasten'd, ev'n by him, that Prince to find,
For Isra'ls Scepter and the Worlds design'd;
Tho' e'er they went, by strictest bonds enjoyn'd,
When him they found they the glad News should send,
That he with adoration might attend.
This his fair Semblance tho' his black Intent,
Was but too plain discover'd by th' event;
For they no sooner safely enter'd were
Under the Convoy of their first bright Star,
Our lowly Roof, the rev'rend Sire goes on,
Whither, not long before, our Off'rings done,
We from the Temple came—no sooner they
Did Gifts at once and Adoration pay
To th' Infant King—but by a Vision warn'd,
To their own happy Country they return'd;
Nor call'd at Salem, as their first intent,
But round, by secret winding ways, they went.
What said not Herod when the Truth he found?
The Air how did his fruitless Curses wound,
Which all were lost in Wind, or on his Head rebound.
But tho' they soon were past his rage and pow'r,
The Thunder ended in a bloody Show'r
On Mourning Bethl'hem, which at first hung high,
And at a distance gather'd in the Skie:
'Twas just descending when an Angel came;
'Twas he who first from scandal and from blame
Clear'd the chast Maid; aloud he bids me rise,
(I saw concern and pity in his Eyes;)
Rise e'er too late and our dear pledg convey,
With his unspotted Mother, wide away
To Egypts distant Fields; nor thence remove:
'Till he receiv'd Commission from above,
As now he Convoy'd out to guard us home.
—An hours delay was Death, the Guards were come
From bloody Herod, eager to destroy
His dreaded Rival in the God-like Boy.
Arriv'd already at the City Gate,
And only there did for Admittance wait.
The same to him, the Magi, wise and great.
(Tho' that before, and much beside he knew,
Which from the Sacred Oracles he drew.)
60
Nor long in Herod's glittering Courts remain'd;
Thence hasten'd, ev'n by him, that Prince to find,
For Isra'ls Scepter and the Worlds design'd;
Tho' e'er they went, by strictest bonds enjoyn'd,
When him they found they the glad News should send,
That he with adoration might attend.
This his fair Semblance tho' his black Intent,
Was but too plain discover'd by th' event;
For they no sooner safely enter'd were
Under the Convoy of their first bright Star,
Our lowly Roof, the rev'rend Sire goes on,
Whither, not long before, our Off'rings done,
We from the Temple came—no sooner they
Did Gifts at once and Adoration pay
To th' Infant King—but by a Vision warn'd,
To their own happy Country they return'd;
Nor call'd at Salem, as their first intent,
But round, by secret winding ways, they went.
What said not Herod when the Truth he found?
The Air how did his fruitless Curses wound,
Which all were lost in Wind, or on his Head rebound.
But tho' they soon were past his rage and pow'r,
The Thunder ended in a bloody Show'r
On Mourning Bethl'hem, which at first hung high,
And at a distance gather'd in the Skie:
'Twas just descending when an Angel came;
'Twas he who first from scandal and from blame
Clear'd the chast Maid; aloud he bids me rise,
(I saw concern and pity in his Eyes;)
Rise e'er too late and our dear pledg convey,
With his unspotted Mother, wide away
To Egypts distant Fields; nor thence remove:
'Till he receiv'd Commission from above,
As now he Convoy'd out to guard us home.
—An hours delay was Death, the Guards were come
From bloody Herod, eager to destroy
His dreaded Rival in the God-like Boy.
Arriv'd already at the City Gate,
And only there did for Admittance wait.
61
Starting I rose, for my lov'd Charge affraid,
Nor in the Town one precious moment stay'd,
Scarce had I time to tell the Sacred Maid,
What my concern and this strange hurry meant,
But silent thro' the Southern Gate we went;
Nor many paces from the Wall had gone,
When all the busie Streets with Torches shone,
Crossing from House to House, which we espy
From a small Hill, and strait a dismal cry
Of Blood and Murther did our Ears affright,
With doubled Horror thro' the silent Night.
Loud Shrieks we sometimes heard, nor that alone,
Oft we distinguish'd some deep dying Groan,
These of their barb'rous Foes for Mercy pray'd,
These, desperate grown, with fruitless arms invade.
How gastly must that Scene of Horror be,
Entire, which we did thus by piecemeal see?
Here mangled Infants from the Windows fall,
And Herod's bloody Banner on the Wall;
There Children dasht on Marble pavements lie,
There gor'd aloft on Pikes or Halberts die.
Nor in the Town one precious moment stay'd,
Scarce had I time to tell the Sacred Maid,
What my concern and this strange hurry meant,
But silent thro' the Southern Gate we went;
Nor many paces from the Wall had gone,
When all the busie Streets with Torches shone,
Crossing from House to House, which we espy
From a small Hill, and strait a dismal cry
Of Blood and Murther did our Ears affright,
With doubled Horror thro' the silent Night.
Loud Shrieks we sometimes heard, nor that alone,
Oft we distinguish'd some deep dying Groan,
These of their barb'rous Foes for Mercy pray'd,
These, desperate grown, with fruitless arms invade.
How gastly must that Scene of Horror be,
Entire, which we did thus by piecemeal see?
Here mangled Infants from the Windows fall,
And Herod's bloody Banner on the Wall;
There Children dasht on Marble pavements lie,
There gor'd aloft on Pikes or Halberts die.
The Virgin shriek'd with Fear almost opprest,
And claspt the Royal Infant to her breast;
Nor dar'd we more of the sad sight partake,
Trembling lest we our selves a part shou'd make;
But we e'er morning, in our speedy Flight,
Had reach'd the Forrest of the Tekoite;
Beth-haccerem we shun with cautious fear,
For Herod's Garrison we knew was there;
And past the Woods, and Siddim's Plain came down
—On the third morn, to Sheba's bord'ring Town:
—There leaving Palestine, our Course we take,
O'er the vast Sands by Syrbon's waining Lake
And Casius Mount, with Palms and Cedars crown'd,
For mighty Pompey's Fate and Tomb renown'd:
There entring on proud Mizraims fruitful Soil,
Which asks no Rain, and knows no God but Nile;
Near old Bethshemesh we the River crost,
Which both its antient Name and Gods has lost,
Now Heliopolis; advancing on
To the proud Walls of neighb'ring Babylon;
Nor dare so near our dreaded Foe abide,
But still pierce further, and at last reside
At Royal Noph, now Memphis, Egypt's pride;
(Near those vast Pyramids which wound the Sky,
Whilst at midway the empty Clouds go by;
Vain Monuments of Pow'r and Luxury;
Huge useless Wonders, Wens on Natures face,
The Younger Brothers of the Babel-race;)
And there in wish'd obscurity remain'd,
By an old Friend with kindness entertain'd
—But the day wears, nor need I now relate
What's known so well, proud Herod's dreadful Fate,
An end he did, worthy his Crimes, receive:
Nor must I say how we did Egypt leave,
By the kind Angel warn'd, how a new fear
Surpriz'd us, when, our happy Birth-place near,
We heard, to our uneasiness and pain,
The Tyrant's Son did in Judæa reign:
How by divine Direction guided, we,
Still Northward went to distant Galilee;
Till to fair Nazareth again we came,
That thence the Royal Child might bear his name,
As antient Prophets sung—how great his state?
What Angels on his Infancy did wait?
How he encreas'd in Age and Piety,
How still t'his Holy Mother, and to me,
Exact Obedience paid—
What Wonders we from those that past presage,
From Youth and Childhood meas'ring Manly Age.
In ev'ry Virtue, ev'ry State compleat;
This only of his Actions I'll repeat,
Tho' many more I must in silence pass,
Well worthy Marble Piles or Leaves of Brass.
Three Lustres scarce compleat, e'er the soft down,
His Nectar dropping Lips began to crown;
We to the Pasch ascending, with us he
Observes with Joy the glad Solemnity.
Which now in festal Songs and Off'rings past,
T'our own sweet Nazareth again we hast.
But missing him, we both began to fear,
Nor tidings cou'd from all our Kindred hear;
We search each Troop, returning from the Pasch,
Zebedee and his Grandsire Heli ask,
Ask o'er and o'er, but cou'd no comfort gain.
As a fair Hind who wand'ring o'er the Plain,
Or some thick Wood, her tender Fawn has lost,
So look'd the Virgin, so lamenting crost
Each Street and Road, in vain she sought and mourn'd,
Nor less when to the Town next morn return'd:
Two days, alike, in fruitless search we spent,
Two Nights in Tears, and him, as lost, lament:
Her Feet ne'er rest by day, by night her Eyes,
Which delug'd saw the third sad Morn arise:
Humane endeavours vain, to Heav'n she flies,
Resolv'd to seek him in the House of Pray'r,
And from his Father ask Direction there:
We sought, and him amidst the Scribes we found,
A pleas'd, a numerous Audience seated round,
His Words admiring, on his Lips they hung,
And bless'd each sound of his harmonious Tongue:
How far his Sence his tender Age outran!
Beyond a Child, he spake beyond a Man!
—Heav'ns! was it he? Good Nicodemus cry'd:
Then in the Schools, as chanc'd, I did preside,
And heard it all; the wond'rous Youth admir'd,
Nor thought him less than by high Heav'n inspir'd!
So lofty, yet so evident and clear,
All his surprizing Thoughts and Notions were:
Each look, each word, such a peculiar Grace;
So modest, and so grave his heav'nly Face,
Envy it self, his Foe, cou'd hardly prove;
He shar'd at once our Wonder and our Love.
If then, with Zeal, the happy Friend rejoyn'd,
So justly you admir'd so great a Mind,
How wou'd you then, if him you now wou'd see?
How Fathers! wou'd you all soon rival me?
He now excels himself, as others then,
He's fairer far than all the Sons of Men:
Mild Mercy mixt with awful Goodness shine
All o'er, confessing Love and Pow'r divine:
Each Look, each Line, bespeaks immod'rate Grace,
And shows his Fathers Image in his Face:
—Yet he but injures, who like me commends,
The best of Masters and the best of Friends.
Ah, had you once, like me, his Goodness prov'd;
Were he but known he cou'd not but be lov'd.
—A warmth like yours, success can never fail,
So strongly you persuade, you must prevail,
Wise Nicodemus cries, for your great Friend,
Whom I my self desire this Night t'attend,
To find if Truth will these Encomiums bear,
Or heighthen'd you present his Character.
And claspt the Royal Infant to her breast;
Nor dar'd we more of the sad sight partake,
Trembling lest we our selves a part shou'd make;
But we e'er morning, in our speedy Flight,
Had reach'd the Forrest of the Tekoite;
Beth-haccerem we shun with cautious fear,
For Herod's Garrison we knew was there;
And past the Woods, and Siddim's Plain came down
—On the third morn, to Sheba's bord'ring Town:
—There leaving Palestine, our Course we take,
O'er the vast Sands by Syrbon's waining Lake
And Casius Mount, with Palms and Cedars crown'd,
For mighty Pompey's Fate and Tomb renown'd:
There entring on proud Mizraims fruitful Soil,
Which asks no Rain, and knows no God but Nile;
Near old Bethshemesh we the River crost,
Which both its antient Name and Gods has lost,
Now Heliopolis; advancing on
62
Nor dare so near our dreaded Foe abide,
But still pierce further, and at last reside
At Royal Noph, now Memphis, Egypt's pride;
(Near those vast Pyramids which wound the Sky,
Whilst at midway the empty Clouds go by;
Vain Monuments of Pow'r and Luxury;
Huge useless Wonders, Wens on Natures face,
The Younger Brothers of the Babel-race;)
And there in wish'd obscurity remain'd,
By an old Friend with kindness entertain'd
—But the day wears, nor need I now relate
What's known so well, proud Herod's dreadful Fate,
An end he did, worthy his Crimes, receive:
Nor must I say how we did Egypt leave,
By the kind Angel warn'd, how a new fear
Surpriz'd us, when, our happy Birth-place near,
We heard, to our uneasiness and pain,
The Tyrant's Son did in Judæa reign:
How by divine Direction guided, we,
Still Northward went to distant Galilee;
Till to fair Nazareth again we came,
That thence the Royal Child might bear his name,
As antient Prophets sung—how great his state?
What Angels on his Infancy did wait?
How he encreas'd in Age and Piety,
How still t'his Holy Mother, and to me,
Exact Obedience paid—
What Wonders we from those that past presage,
From Youth and Childhood meas'ring Manly Age.
In ev'ry Virtue, ev'ry State compleat;
This only of his Actions I'll repeat,
Tho' many more I must in silence pass,
Well worthy Marble Piles or Leaves of Brass.
Three Lustres scarce compleat, e'er the soft down,
His Nectar dropping Lips began to crown;
We to the Pasch ascending, with us he
Observes with Joy the glad Solemnity.
Which now in festal Songs and Off'rings past,
T'our own sweet Nazareth again we hast.
63
Nor tidings cou'd from all our Kindred hear;
We search each Troop, returning from the Pasch,
Zebedee and his Grandsire Heli ask,
Ask o'er and o'er, but cou'd no comfort gain.
As a fair Hind who wand'ring o'er the Plain,
Or some thick Wood, her tender Fawn has lost,
So look'd the Virgin, so lamenting crost
Each Street and Road, in vain she sought and mourn'd,
Nor less when to the Town next morn return'd:
Two days, alike, in fruitless search we spent,
Two Nights in Tears, and him, as lost, lament:
Her Feet ne'er rest by day, by night her Eyes,
Which delug'd saw the third sad Morn arise:
Humane endeavours vain, to Heav'n she flies,
Resolv'd to seek him in the House of Pray'r,
And from his Father ask Direction there:
We sought, and him amidst the Scribes we found,
A pleas'd, a numerous Audience seated round,
His Words admiring, on his Lips they hung,
And bless'd each sound of his harmonious Tongue:
How far his Sence his tender Age outran!
Beyond a Child, he spake beyond a Man!
—Heav'ns! was it he? Good Nicodemus cry'd:
Then in the Schools, as chanc'd, I did preside,
And heard it all; the wond'rous Youth admir'd,
Nor thought him less than by high Heav'n inspir'd!
So lofty, yet so evident and clear,
All his surprizing Thoughts and Notions were:
Each look, each word, such a peculiar Grace;
So modest, and so grave his heav'nly Face,
Envy it self, his Foe, cou'd hardly prove;
He shar'd at once our Wonder and our Love.
If then, with Zeal, the happy Friend rejoyn'd,
So justly you admir'd so great a Mind,
How wou'd you then, if him you now wou'd see?
How Fathers! wou'd you all soon rival me?
He now excels himself, as others then,
He's fairer far than all the Sons of Men:
Mild Mercy mixt with awful Goodness shine
64
Each Look, each Line, bespeaks immod'rate Grace,
And shows his Fathers Image in his Face:
—Yet he but injures, who like me commends,
The best of Masters and the best of Friends.
Ah, had you once, like me, his Goodness prov'd;
Were he but known he cou'd not but be lov'd.
—A warmth like yours, success can never fail,
So strongly you persuade, you must prevail,
Wise Nicodemus cries, for your great Friend,
Whom I my self desire this Night t'attend,
To find if Truth will these Encomiums bear,
Or heighthen'd you present his Character.
Gladly I claim your word, the Saint reply'd,
And for the honour press to be your Guide:
They joyn, tho' all the Company divide;
When Joseph first saluted every Guest,
And the next morning fix'd to hear the rest.
And for the honour press to be your Guide:
They joyn, tho' all the Company divide;
When Joseph first saluted every Guest,
And the next morning fix'd to hear the rest.
The End of the Second Book.
| The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ | |