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. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
 | The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ |  |
—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 Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ | |