Streams from Helicon Or, Poems On Various Subjects. In Three Parts. By Alexander Pennecuik ... The Second Edition. Enter'd in Stationer's Hall |
 | I. |
 |
An amorous Epistle from the Abbot Bothwell,
|
|
|
| II. |
| III. |
 | Streams from Helicon |  |
An amorous Epistle from the Abbot Bothwell,
To Eleonora a Lady Nun.
Daughter,
Beauty is justly term'd a divine Ray,
By which our Maker doth his Pow'r display;
The Fathers of the Church do still conclude,
The Fair are always exquisitely Good:
That lovely Face of thine's a Glass, where we
Behold the Rays of pure Divinity.
By which our Maker doth his Pow'r display;
The Fathers of the Church do still conclude,
The Fair are always exquisitely Good:
That lovely Face of thine's a Glass, where we
Behold the Rays of pure Divinity.
Th'Almighty shews his Love unto the Fair,
Allowing them two Attributes to share;
These Attributes most proper to his Nature,
And you enjoy them both, my charming Creature.
'Twere rank Ingratitude t'indulgent Heav'n,
Not to employ the Talents God hath given?
Was't for no other End; Heav'n Beauty made,
But tantalize our Eyes, and useless fade:
He was too Kind, bestow'd the charming Pow'r,
To make it Crime, to touch the pleasant Flow'r.
Allowing them two Attributes to share;
These Attributes most proper to his Nature,
And you enjoy them both, my charming Creature.
50
Not to employ the Talents God hath given?
Was't for no other End; Heav'n Beauty made,
But tantalize our Eyes, and useless fade:
He was too Kind, bestow'd the charming Pow'r,
To make it Crime, to touch the pleasant Flow'r.
Lifes not more nat'ral to Mankind, than Love;
(Need I a Thing so very easy prove?)
There's a Desire implanted in each Creature,
T'unite with what's most proper to its Nature;
This animats the whole Terrestrial Ball,
Instinct we call it, in the Animal:
That natural Cast, which to the Center brings;
The Term we give it, in inan'mate Things,
In Man, the noblest Creature on the Earth,
The Sign of Wisdom, and Cœlestial Birth.
These Functions of our Life, to sleep, or move,
Are not more nat'ral, than for us to Love:
Nothings so deep below, so high above,
But feels the mighty Influence of Love.
The rugged Earth, th'unexorable Sea,
The Winds and Stars, all own its Sov'reignty:
Nothing's too good, too great, but what it sways,
All Things are at its Will, and ev'ry Thing obeys.
(Need I a Thing so very easy prove?)
There's a Desire implanted in each Creature,
T'unite with what's most proper to its Nature;
This animats the whole Terrestrial Ball,
Instinct we call it, in the Animal:
That natural Cast, which to the Center brings;
The Term we give it, in inan'mate Things,
In Man, the noblest Creature on the Earth,
The Sign of Wisdom, and Cœlestial Birth.
These Functions of our Life, to sleep, or move,
Are not more nat'ral, than for us to Love:
Nothings so deep below, so high above,
But feels the mighty Influence of Love.
The rugged Earth, th'unexorable Sea,
The Winds and Stars, all own its Sov'reignty:
Nothing's too good, too great, but what it sways,
All Things are at its Will, and ev'ry Thing obeys.
If Love be sweet to these immers'd in Strife,
Burthen'd with all the servile Cares of Life,
'Tis much more so, to pious Souls that dwell
Recluse, and cloyster'd in a lonely Cell:
Calm and serene, we feel no weight of Sorrow,
What we're to Day, we'll be the same to Morrow.
No guilded Baits of Honour do invite,
To Toiles all Day, and sleepless Hours all Night,
Tho' Luxury, our Convent be deny'd,
With fresh Subsistance daily we're supply'd;
We hear no noise of War, or foreign News,
Then let soft Love employ the Religious:
We mock at Riches, which the World adore all,
Our Disposition's physical and moral;
Long Time with Saints, hath stock'd the Courts above,
Who's Hearts receiv'd th'impress of divine Love;
Saints Love so vigrous grows, that at the length,
They love with all their Soul, and all their Strength:
But as the Brutes (so the Supreme design'd)
Have by their Master diff'rent Tasks assign'd,
According as their Strength and Kind allow,
Some are for Pleasure, others for the Plow:
So we who must th'Almighty's Laws fulfil,
Perform the mighty Dictats of his Will.
These preordained by the Pow'rs above,
Give up their Hearts wholly to divine Love;
For this Seraphick Love the Church still Pants,
'Tis this makes Martyres, Confessors and Saints.
But the Devout, to whom the Gifts not giv'n
Of violent Inclinations for Heav'n,
Rise up with Grace, implanted in their Nature,
By lower Contemplations of the Creature:
We love our Maker, as the others do,
Love him dilated in his Works below;
We admire his Goodness, when we gaze on you.
When I behold your Charms, your ev'ry Grace,
Your matchless Shape, the Wonders of your Face,
I adore th'Omnipotent, I must confess
I see his Image in the lovely Glass:
Thus I mount up, on Love's triumphant Wings,
To the eternal Principal of Things.
I by its natural Emanations know,
Pleasures of Heav'n above, and Earth below;
So without Guilt of Sacrilege, I share
My Heart 'twixt divine Love, and you my charming Fair.
Burthen'd with all the servile Cares of Life,
'Tis much more so, to pious Souls that dwell
Recluse, and cloyster'd in a lonely Cell:
Calm and serene, we feel no weight of Sorrow,
What we're to Day, we'll be the same to Morrow.
51
To Toiles all Day, and sleepless Hours all Night,
Tho' Luxury, our Convent be deny'd,
With fresh Subsistance daily we're supply'd;
We hear no noise of War, or foreign News,
Then let soft Love employ the Religious:
We mock at Riches, which the World adore all,
Our Disposition's physical and moral;
Long Time with Saints, hath stock'd the Courts above,
Who's Hearts receiv'd th'impress of divine Love;
Saints Love so vigrous grows, that at the length,
They love with all their Soul, and all their Strength:
But as the Brutes (so the Supreme design'd)
Have by their Master diff'rent Tasks assign'd,
According as their Strength and Kind allow,
Some are for Pleasure, others for the Plow:
So we who must th'Almighty's Laws fulfil,
Perform the mighty Dictats of his Will.
These preordained by the Pow'rs above,
Give up their Hearts wholly to divine Love;
For this Seraphick Love the Church still Pants,
'Tis this makes Martyres, Confessors and Saints.
But the Devout, to whom the Gifts not giv'n
Of violent Inclinations for Heav'n,
Rise up with Grace, implanted in their Nature,
By lower Contemplations of the Creature:
We love our Maker, as the others do,
Love him dilated in his Works below;
We admire his Goodness, when we gaze on you.
52
Your matchless Shape, the Wonders of your Face,
I adore th'Omnipotent, I must confess
I see his Image in the lovely Glass:
Thus I mount up, on Love's triumphant Wings,
To the eternal Principal of Things.
I by its natural Emanations know,
Pleasures of Heav'n above, and Earth below;
So without Guilt of Sacrilege, I share
My Heart 'twixt divine Love, and you my charming Fair.
To make us Happy, Heav'n did design
That we should in our Maker's Image shine;
This we establish as a Rule of Faith,
The Thing which makes us happy, makes us safe;
And that is Love.
That we should in our Maker's Image shine;
This we establish as a Rule of Faith,
The Thing which makes us happy, makes us safe;
And that is Love.
The Ardors of my Love, makes me impart
To you the great Arcanas of my Heart;
My ghostly Counsel take, be no more Coy,
Prepare to meet me, and the coming Joy.
To you the great Arcanas of my Heart;
My ghostly Counsel take, be no more Coy,
Prepare to meet me, and the coming Joy.
| Streams from Helicon | |