University of Virginia Library

CHORVS OF JEWISH WOMEN. JESVS.
[CHORVS OF JEWISH WOMEN]
VVe all deplore thy miseries;
For Thee we beat our brests; our eyes
In bitter teares their moysture shed:
If thou be he by Ravens fed,
Aloft on flaming Charriot born;
Yet wouldst to cruell Lords return:
Or that sad Bard, believ'd too late,
Who sung his Countreys servil Fate;
Now come to sigh her destiny,
A like unhappy; twice to dye:
Or he, long nourish'd in the Wood,
Who late in Jordans cleansing Flood
So many wash'd; that durst reprove
A King for his incestious love;
Slain for a Dancer. If the same,
Or other of an elder fame,
Sent back to Earth, in vices drown'd,
To raise it from that dark Profound;
'Tis sure thy Sanctitie exceeds,
Blaz'd by thy Vertue and thy Deeds.
O never more, ring'd with a Throng
Of Followers, shall thy sacred tongue
Informe our Actions; nor the way
To Heaven, and heavenly joyes, display!
The Blind, who now the unknown light
Beholds, scarce trusting his own sight,
Thy gift, shall not the Giver see.
Those maladies, subdu'd by thee,
Which powerfull Art and Hearbs defie,
No more thy soveraign Touch shall fly.
Nor Loaves, so tacidly increast,
Againe so many thousands feast.
Thou Rule of Lifes Perfection,
By Practice, as by Precept, shown,
Late hemb'd with Auditors, whose store
Incumbred the too-narrow Shore,
The Mountains cover'd with their Preasse,
The Mountains then their People lesse;
For whom our Youths their garments strew,
Victorious Boughs before thee threw,
While thou in Triumph rid'ft along,
Saluted with a joyfull Song:
Now, see what change from Fortune springs!
O dire Vicissitude of Things!
Betray'd, abandon'd by thy owne;
Drag'd by thy Foes, oppos'd by none.
Thou hope of our afflicted state,
Thou Balme of Life, and Lord of Fate;
Not erst to such unworthy bands
Did'st thou submit thy powerfull Hands.
Lo, he who gave the dumbe a tongue,
With patient silence bears his wrong!
The Souldier, ah! renews his blows;
The whip new-op'ned furrows shows,
Which now in angry tumors swel:
To us their wrath the Romans sel.
Lo, how his members flow! the smart
Confin'd to no particular part:
His stripes, which make all but one sore,
Run in confused streames of gore.
Art thou the Slave of thy owne Fate,
To beare thy torments cursed waight?
What Arab, though he wildly stray
In wandring Tents, and live by prey;
Or Cyclop, who no pitty knowes,
Would such a cruel task impose?
O that the fatall pressure might
Sinke thee to Earth, nor weigh more light
Then Death upon thee; that thy weake
Vntwisted thread of life might breake!
It were a blessing so to dye:
But O for how great cruelty
Art thou reserv'd! the Crosse thou now
Support'st, must with thy burden bow.

JESVS.
Daughters of Solyma, no more
My wrongs thus passionately deplore.
These teares for future sorrows keep:
Wives, for your selves and children weep.
That horrid day will shortly come,
When you shall blesse the barren Wombe,
And Brest that never infant fed:
Then shall you wish the mountains head
Would from his trembling basis slide,
And all in tomb's of ruins hide.

CHORVS.
Alas! thou spotlesse Sacrifice
To greedy Death! no more our eyes
Shall see thy Face! ah, never more
Shalt thou return from Deaths dark shore.
Though Lazarus, late at thy call,
Brake through the barrs of Funerall;
Rais'd from that Prison to review
The World which then he hardly knew:
Who forth-with former sense regains;
The bloud sprung in his heated Veins;
His sinews supple grew, yet were
Again almost conjeal'd with feare.
Thy followers, Sadock, now may know
Their Error from the Shades below.
A Few, belov'd by the Most High,
Through Vertue of the Deitie,
To others rarely rendred breath:
None ever rais'd himselfe from death.