The Poetical Works of William Drummond of Hawthornden ::

I feele my Bosome glow with wontlesse Fires,
Rais'd from the vulgar prease my Mind aspires
(Wing'd with high Thoghts) vnto his praise to clime,
From deepe Eternitie who call'd foorth Time;
That Essence which not mou'd makes each thing moue,
Vncreat'd Beautie all-creating Loue:
But by so great an object, radient light,
My Heart appall'd, enfeebled restes my Sight,
Thicke Cloudes benighte my labouring Ingine,
And at my high Attempts my Wits repine.
If thou in mee this sacred Rapture wrought,
My Knowledge sharpen, Sarcells lend my thought;
Grant mee (Times Father, world-containing King)
A Pow'r, of Thee in pow'rfull Layes to sing,
That as thy Beautie in Earth liues, Heauen shines,
So it may dawne, or shadow in my Lines.

As farre beyond the starrie walles of Heauen,
As is the loftiest of the Planets seuen

Sequestred from this Earth, in purest light,
Out-shining ours, as ours doth sable Night,
Thou, All-sufficient, Omnipotent,
Thou euer-glorious, most excellent,
GOD various in Names, in Essence one,
High art enstalled on a golden Throne,
Out-reaching Heauens wide Vastes, the Bounds of nought,
Transcending all the Circles of our Thought:
With diamantine Scepter in thy Hand,
There thou giu'st Lawes, and dost this World command,
This world of Concords rais'd vnliklie-sweete,
Which like a Ball lyes prostrate to thy Feete.

If so wee may well say (and what wee say,
Heere wrapt in flesh, led by dimme Reasons ray,
To show by earthlie Beauties which wee see
That spirituall Excellence that shines in Thee,
Good Lord forgiue) not farre from thy right Side,
With curled Lockes Youth euer doth abide;
Rose-cheeked Youth, who garlanded with Flowres,
Still blooming, ceasleslie vnto thee powres
Immortall Nectar, in a Cuppe of Gold,
That by no darts of Ages Thou grow old,
And as ends and beginnings Thee not clame,
Successionlesse that Thou bee still the same.

Neare to thy other side resistlesse Might,
From Head to Foote in burnisht Armour dight,
That ringes about him, with a wauing Brand,
And watchfull Eye, great Sentinell doth stand;
That neither Time nor force in ought impaire
Thy workmanshippe, nor harme thine Empire faire,
Soone to giue Death to all againe that would
Sterne Discord raise which thou destroy'd of old;
Discord that Foe to order, Nurse of Warre,
By which the noblest things dimolisht are:
But (Catife) Shee no Treason doth deuise,

When Might to nought doth bring her enterprise,
Thy All-vpholding Might her Malice raines,
And her in Hell throwes bound in iron Chaines.

With Lockes in waues of Gold that ebbe and flow
On yuorie necke, in Robes more white than Snow,
Truth stedfastlie before thee holdes a Glasse,
Indent'd with Gemmes, where shineth all that was,
That is, or shall bee: heere, ere ought was wrought,
Thou knew all that thy Pow'r with Time forth-brought,
And more, Things numberlesse which thou couldst make,
That actuallie shall neuer beeing take:
Heere, thou beholdst thy selfe, and (strange) dost proue,
At once the Beautie, Louer and the Loue.

With Faces two (like Sisters) sweetlie faire,
Whose Blossomes no rough Autumne can impaire,
Stands Prouidence, and doth her lookes disperse
Through euerie Corner of this Vniuerse:
Thy Prouidence at once which generall Things
And singulare doth rule, as Empires Kings;
Without whose care this world (lost) would remaine,
As Shippe without a Maister in the Maine,
As Chariot alone, as Bodies proue
Depriu'd of Soules by which they bee, liue, moue.

But who are They which shine thy Throne so neare?
With sacred countenance, and looke seuere,
This in one hand a pondrous Sword doth hold,
Her left stayes charg'd with Ballances of Gold;
That with Browes girt with Bayes, sweete-smiling Face,
Doth beare a Brandon, with a babish grace
Two milke-white Winges him easilie doe moue,
O Shee thy Iustice is, and this thy Loue!
By this thou brought this Engine great to light,
By that it fram'd in Number, Measure, Weight,
That destine doth reward to ill and good;
But Sway of Iustice is by Loue with-stood,

Which did it not relent and mildlie stay,
This World ere now had had its funerall Day.

What Bands (enclustred) neare to these abide,
Which into vaste Infinitie them hide?
Infinitie that neither doth admit,
Place, Time, nor Number to encroach on it:
Heere Bountie sparkleth, heere doth Beautie shine,
Simplicitie, more white than Gelsemine,
Mercie with open wings, ay-varied Blisse,
Glorie, and Ioy, that Blesses darling is.

Ineffable, All-pow'rfull GOD, All-free,
Thou onelie liu'st, and each thing liues by Thee,
No Ioy, no, nor Perfection to Thee came
By the contriuing of this Worlds great Frame;
Ere Sunne, Moone, Starres beganne their restlesse race,
Ere paint'd with purple Light was Heauens round Face,
Ere Aire had Clouds, ere Clouds weept down their showrs,
Ere Sea embraced Earth, ere Earth bare Flowres,
Thou happie liu'd; World nought to Thee supply'd,
All in thy selfe thy selfe thou satisfy'd:
Of Good no slender Shadow doth appeare,
No age-worne tracke, in Thee which shin'd not cleare;
Perfections Summe, prime-cause of euerie Cause,
Midst, end, beginning, where all good doth pause.
Hence of thy Substance, differing in nought
Thou in Eternitie thy Sonne foorth brought,
The onelie Birth of thy vnchanging Minde,
Thine Image, Paterne-like that euer shin'd,
Light out of Light, begotten not by Will,
But Nature, all and that same Essence still
Which thou thy selfe; for thou dost nought possesse
Which hee hath not, in ought nor is hee lesse
Than Thou his great Begetter; of this Light,

Eternall, double, kindled was thy Spright
Eternallie, who is with Thee the same,
All-holie Gift, Embassadour, Knot, Flame:
Most sacred, Triade, O most holie One,
Vnprocreat'd Father, euer-procreat'd Sonne,
Ghost breath'd from both, you were, are, aye shall bee
(Most blessed) Three in One, and One in Three,
Vncomprehensible by reachlesse Hight,
And vnperceiued by excessiue Light.
So in our Soules, three and yet one are still,
The Vnderstanding, Memorie, and Will;
So (though vnlike) the Planet of the Dayes,
So soone as hee was made begate his Rayes,
Which are his Of-spring, and from both was hurl'd
The rosie Light which comfort doth the World,
And none fore-went an other: so the Spring,
The Well-head, and the Streame which they foorth bring,
Are but one selfe-same Essence, nor in ought
Doe differ, saue in order, and our Thought
No Chime of time discernes in them to fall,
But three distinctlie bide one Essence all.
But these expresse not Thee; who can declare
Thy beeing? Men and Angels dazel'd are:
Who force this Eden would with wit or sence,
A Cherubin shall finde to barre him thence.

Alls Architect, Lord of this Uniuerse,
Wit is ingulph'd that would thy greatnesse pierce;
Ah! as a Pilgrime who the Alpes doth passe,
Or Atlas Temples crown'd with winters glasse,
The ayrie Caucasus, the Apennine,
Pyrenès cliftes where Sunne doth neuer shine,
When hee some heapes of Hilles hath ouer-went,
Beginnes to thinke on rest, his Iourney spent,

Till mounting some tall Mountaine hee doe finde,
More hights before him than hee left behinde:
With halting pace, so while I would mee raise
To the vnbounded Circüits of thy praise,
Some part of way I thought to haue o're-runne,
But now I see how scarce I haue begunne,
With wonders new my Spirits range possest,
And wandring waylesse in a maze them rest.

In those vaste Fieldes of Light, etheriall Plaines,
Thou art attended by immortall Traines
Of Intellectuall Pow'rs, which thou brought forth
To praise thy Goodnesse, and admire thy Worth;
In numbers passing other Creatures farre,
Since most in number noblest Creatures are,
Which doe in Knowledge vs no lesse out-runne,
Than Moone doth Starres in light, or Moone the Sunne;
Vnlike, in Orders rang'd and manie a Band,
(If Beautie in Disparitie doth stand?)
Arch-Angels, Angels, Cherubes, Seraphines,
And what with name of Thrones amongst them shines,
Large-ruling Princes, Dominations, Powres,
All-acting Vertues of those flaming Towres:
These fred of Vmbrage, these of Labour free,
Rest rauished with still beholding Thee,
Inflam'd with Beames which sparkle from thy Face,
They can no more desire, farre lesse embrace.

Low vnder them, with slow and staggering pace
Thy hand-Maide Nature thy great Steppes doth trace,
The Source of second Causes, golden Chaine
That linkes this Frame, as thou it doth ordaine;
Nature gaz'd on with such a curious Eye
That Earthlings oft her deem'd a Deitye.

By Nature led those Bodies faire and greate
Which faint not in their Course, nor change their State,
Vnintermixt, which no disorder proue,
Though aye and contrarie they alwayes moue;
The Organes of thy Prouidence diuine,
Bookes euer open, Signes that clearelie shine,
Times purpled Maskers, then doe them aduance,
As by sweete Musicke in a measur'd Dance.
Starres, Hoste of heauen, yee Firmaments bright Flowrs,
Cleare Lampes which ouer-hang this Stage of ours,
Yee turne not there to decke the Weeds of Night,
Nor Pageant-like to please the vulgare Sight,
Great Causes sure yee must bring great Effectes,
But who can descant right your graue Aspects?
Hee onlie who You made deciphere can
Your Notes, Heauens Eyes, yee blinde the Eyes of Man.

Amidst these saphire farre-extending Hights,
The neuer-twinkling euer-wandring Lights
Their fixed Motions keepe; one drye and cold,
Deep-leaden colour'd, slowlie there is roll'd,
With Rule and Line for times steppes measur'd euen,
In twice three Lustres hee but turnes his Heauen.
With temperate qualities and Countenance faire,
Still mildelie smiling sweetlie debonnaire,
An other cheares the World, and way doth make
In twice sixe Autumnes through the Zodiacke.
But hote and drye with flaming lockes and Browes
Enrag'd, this in his red Pauillion glowes:
Together running with like speede if space,
Two equallie in hands atchieue their race;
With blushing Face this oft doth bring the Day,
And vsheres oft to statelie Starres the way,
That various in vertue, changing, light,

With his small Flame engemmes the vaile of Night.
Prince of this Court, the Sunne in triumph rides,
With the yeare Snake-like in her selfe that glides;
Times Dispensator, faire life-giuing Source,
Through Skies twelue Posts as hee doth runne his course,
Heart of this All, of what is knowne to Sence
The likest to his Makers Excellence:
In whose diurnall motion doth appeare
A Shadow, no, true pourtrait of the yeare.
The Moone moues lowest, siluer Sunne of Night,
Dispersing through the World her borrow'd light,
Who in three formes her head abroad doth range,
And onelie constant is in constant Change.

Sad Queene of Silence, I neere see thy Face,
To waxe, or waine, or shine with a full grace,
But straight (amaz'd) on Man I thinke, each Day
His state who changeth, or if hee find Stay,
It is in drearie anguish, cares, and paines,
And of his Labours Death is all the Gaines.
Immortall Monarch, can so fond a Thought
Lodge in my brest? as to trust thou first brought
Heere in Earths shadie Cloister wretched Man,
To sucke the Aire of woe, to spend Lifes span
Midst Sighes and plaints, a stranger vnto Mirth,
To giue himselfe his Death rebuking Birth?
By sense and wit of Creatures Made King,
By sense and wit to liue their Vnderling?
And what is worst, haue Eaglets eyes to see
His owne disgrace, and know an high degree
Of Blisse, the Place, if thereto hee might clime,
And not liue thrallèd to imperious Time?
Or (dotard) shall I so from Reason swerue,
To deeme those Lights which to our vse doe serue,
(For thou dost not them need) more noblie fram'd
Than vs, that know their course, and haue them nam'd?

No, I neere thinke but wee did them surpasse
As farre, as they doe Asterismes of Glasse,
When thou vs made; by Treason high defil'd,
Thrust from our first estate wee liue exil'd,
Wandring this Earth, which is of Death the Lot,
Where he doth vse the Pow'r which he hath got,
Indifferent Umpire vnto Clownes and Kings,
The supreame Monarch of all mortall things.

When first this flowrie Orbe was to vs giuen
It but in place disualu'd was to Heauen,
These Creatures which now our Soueraignes are,
And as to Rebelles doe denounce vs warre,
Then were our Uassalles, no tumultuous Storme,
No Thunders, Quakings, did her Forme deforme,
The Seas in tumbling Mountaines did not roare,
But like moist Christall whispered on the Shoare,
No Snake did met her Meads, nor ambusht lowre
In azure Curles beneath the sweet-Spring Flowre;
The Nightshade, Henbane, Naple, Aconite,
Her Bowels then not bare, with Death to smite
Her guiltlesse Brood; thy Messengers of Grace,
As their high Rounds did haunte this lower Place:
O Ioy of Ioyes! with our first Parents Thou
To commune then didst daigne, as Friends doe now:
Against thee wee rebell'd, and iustly thus,
Each Creature rebelled against vs,
Earth, reft of what did chiefe in her excell,
To all became a Iaile, to most a Hell,
In Times full Terme vntill thy Sonne was giuen,
Who Man with Thee, Earth reconcil'd with Heauen.

Whole and entire all in thy Selfe thou art,
All-where diffus'd, yet of this All no part,
For infinite, in making this faire Frame,
(Great without quantitie) in all thou came,
And filling all, how can thy State admit,
Or Place or Substance to be voide of it?

Were Worlds as many, as the Raies which streame
From Heauens bright Eyes, or madding Wits do dreame,
They would not reele in nought, nor wandring stray,
But draw to Thee, who could their Centers stay;
Were but one houre this World disioyn'd from Thee,
It in one houre to nought reduc'd should bee,
For it thy shaddow is, and can they last,
If seuer'd from the Substances them cast?
O only blest, and Author of all blisse,
No Blisse it selfe, that all-where wished is,
Efficient, exemplarie, finall Good,
Of thine owne Selfe but onely vnderstood;
Light is thy Curtaine, thou art Light of Light,
An euer-waking Eye still shining bright,
In-looking all, exempt of passiue powre,
And change, in change since Deaths pale shade doth lowre.
All Times to thee are one, that which hath runne,
And that which is not brought yet by the Sunne,
To thee are present, who dost alwayes see
In present act, what past is or to bee.
Day-liuers wee rememberance doe losse
Of Ages worne, so Miseries vs tosse,
(Blinde and lethargicke of thy heauenly Grace,
Which sinne in our first Parents did deface,
And euen while Embryones curst by iustest doome)
That wee neglect what gone is, or to come:
But thou in thy great Archieues scrolled hast
In parts and whole, what euer yet hath past,
Since first the marble wheeles of Time were roll'd,
As euer liuing, neuer waxing old,
Still is the same thy Day and Yesterday,
An vn-diuided Now, a constant Ay.

O King, whose Greatnesse none can comprehend,
Whose boundlesse Goodnesse doth to all extend,
Light of all Beautie, Ocean without ground,
That standing flowest, giuing dost abound,

Rich palace, and Indweller euer blest,
Neuer not working euer yet in Rest;
What wit cannot conceiue, words say of Thee,
Heere where as in a Mirrour wee but see,
Shadowes of shadowes, Atomes of thy Might,
Still owlie eyed when staring on thy Light,
Grant that released from this earthly Iaile,
And fred of Clouds which heere our Knowledge vaile,
In Heauens high Temples, where thy Praises ring,
I may in sweeter Notes heare Angels sing.

University of Virginia Library

[v] AN HYMNE OF THE FAIREST FAIRE.

[An Hymne of the Nature, Atributes, and Workes of God.]