University of Virginia Library

Canto. III.

The Argument.

The Levites vision, Phineah's Prayer,
The Israelites late caus'd despaire
Now turn'd to courage, when by them
A new invented stratagem
Drawes the enemy from the walls,
Untill within their net he falls,
With the full righting of the wrong
Does both conclude, and crowne my Song.
When will Vice faile? whē shall we see th'event
Of wicked acts as bad as the Intent?
As yet the worst are prosperous, and worse,
The good as yet have never miss'd their curse:
Review the Levites wife, and you shall see
When she had forfeited her honesty,
Her father entertain'd her; but once more
When she was come to what she left before,
Her Lord and Vertue, when that all her strife
Shall be to gaine the name of a good wife,
Gibeah will not harbour her; O poore!
Gibeah were guiltlesse had it done no more:
But Gibeah will murder her; review
The Campe awhile, and that th'campe is true
Which was in her; Twice had that army try'd
The valour of their enemies, and twice dy'd
The fields with their best blood, so hardly crost
That they have fought no oftner then th'have lost:
And yet their cause was best: neither were they
The onely people which have lost the day,
Which they deserv'd to winne: search the records
Of every Age, and every Age affords
Examples of like strangenesse: who can tell
What the Assyrian did to Jsrael?
How in despite of all their lofty towers,
(Which hop'd a standing to the last of hours)
He made one houre their last: unlucky howre,
Where vice shew'd what't could do when it had power.
The sword did sport with lifes, nor were they such
Whose losse or preservation did not much
Pertaine unto the State: but the Kings sonnes
In the same time, the same Pavilions,
By the same tyrant are inforc'd to die,
And which exceeds all, in their father eye.
Poore Zedekiahs kingdomes first is gone
And then his heyre's, O harsh inversion
If he had lost them first, it might be thought
His kingdomes losse would not have mov'd him ought
He would have made the best of th'other crosse
Esteeming it an easing, not a losse.
As he might now to be depriv'd of sight
When he should covet the kind screene of Night,
Betweene his woes and him: if in his mind
He saw, it was a blessing to be blind:
That then he should be forc't to see no more
When he could not see what he saw before,
This Israel suffer'd, and this Ashur did,
And yet I dare affirme it was not hid
No not from Ashur ev'n in his owne doome
That they were better who were overcome,
Or if the goodnesse to his side he drawes,
'Tis that his sword was better, not his cause
I could goe on in presidents as true,
Actions betweene the Heathen and the Iew,
Betweene the Turke and Christian: but what need
To shew there is no birth without a seed?
No speech without a tongue? or if there be
More truths of such knowne perspicuity.
How doe they doate then, who would tye the Lord
To be so ayding to his childrens sword,
As that he ne're should use his owne, nor doe
Any one act, but what they wish him too?
Are they so good? or is his love so fond
As of a courtesie to make a bond?
Shall they indent with him? and say thus farre
Thou maist correct, but if thy judgements are
Of longer date, they are unjust? for shame
(All ye that glory in a purer Name,)
Hence those blasphemous thoughts, far hence remove,
Lest they deserve the plagues they would reprove.
Is it injustice to suppresse our pride,
To bring unto our eyes what we would hide,
Ev'n from our selves, our close deformities?
Or, may not God, to shew how he does prize
His servants labours, make them thus appeare,
As does the Sunne after a cloud, more cleare?
His judgement certainly wee'l say's too quicke,
Who'l prove one bad because he sees him sicke;
These judgements are diseases, and bestow'd
At pleasure, and not where they most are owd:
Yet due they are where ever they are found,
Since there are none so Catholikely sound,
But in a word, but in a thought have strayd,
Perhaps in those Afflictions, when th'ave wayd
Their deeds and suffrings, which they thinke to be
Of farre more rigor then Æquality.
Then courage noble Countrymen, nor feare,
Though you should want successe a while, to reare
Your names up to your ancestors, (who did
Those acts which now were better to be hid:
Lest that they should upbraid us) doe not feare
That Spaine is neerer the Almighties Eare
Then our devotions: he that could bestow
A victory after a second blow
Vpon the doubting Israelites, can still
Create our better hopes ev'n out of ill.
Or if he doe not, if he have decreed
That our just plague shall be their unjust deed:
That Israel shall be once more overcome,
And David flie away from Absalom:
Yet let this glad us in our chiefest woe,
Man may be good and yet unhappy too.
Now are they truly humbled, now although
No curious eye could guesse their overthrow
When he had seene their numbers, yet at length
They will rely upon another strength,
Or if to numbers they will trust agen,
'Tis to Gods numerous mercies, not their men.
He can deliver (they have seene) by few,
And they doe thinke it possible and true
That he can help by many too, they find
Without him all their actions full of wind,
Of emptinesse, and with him they not doubt
To be as well victorious as devout,
Now Pride hath left them, now they goodnesse yeeld,
Now have they lost their vices with the field.
Such holy lessons doe misfortunes teach,
Which make our once bad thoughts bravely to reach
At Heav'n and glory: if you marke it well
Whilst yet it was a populous Israel
It was a proud one too, but when that now
God lookes upon them with an angry brow,
When all their troopes halfe weary and halfe sicke,
Are growne to easier Arithmeticke,
Th'are truly penitent; hence we may see
The pow'r, the good pow'r of Adversitie,
W'are bad if we are happy, if it please
Heav'n to indow us with a little ease,
If riches doe increase, untill our store
Meet our desires, till we can wish no more,
If that our garners swell (untill they feare
Ruine from that with which they furnisht were)
We but abuse these benefits: our Peace
Brings forth but factions, if that strangers cease
To give us the affront; our selves will be
Both the defendant, and the Enemy.
Our riches are our snares, which being giv'n,
To man, to make a purchase of the heav'n,
We buy our ruine with them, the abuse
Is double, in the getting, and the use,
So that our summes unto such heaps are growne
When Avarice succeeds Oppression.
In briefe, our garners so well stuff'd, so cramm'd,
Detaine our Corne, as if that it were damn'd,
To everlasting prison, none appeares,
And thus we give dearth to the fruitfull yeares:
Being to such a proud rebellion growne,
Famine is not heav'ns judgement but our owne,
So wretched are we, so we skilfull grow
In crimes, the which the heathen doe not know.
We wrong God for his blessings, as if thus
We then were thankfull, if injurious.
Why should not mercy winne us? why should we
Be worse by that, whence we should betterd be?
Blessings were ne're intended for our harme,
Nor should the snake have stung, when he was warme
Him that had warm'd him. O how base is man!
How foolish Irreligion has wanne
Vpon his reason too! Doe we not say
That hee's a beast, whom onely stripes can sway.
O what is man then! who ne're heares his Lord,
Till that the famine call him, or the sword.
Who (as he meant to tyre his patient God)
Yeelds not unto his favours, but his rod.
And can we yet intreat him to be kind,
To alter his, when wee'l not change our mind?
If we are heard, we will offend agen,
And all our pray'r does but intreat a Sinne.
Thus pray'd the Israelites, but if th'are heard
If he that made them scorn'd, will make them feard:
It is in chance, no, tis as sure as fate,
Having forgot their misery of late
They will rebell againe: like those good hearts
Who though they know the paines, the many smarts
Which fruitfulnesse is fruitfull with, still give
Death to themselves, to make their issue live:
And if they scape this death, they try againe,
And boldly venture for a second paine,
As if twere pleasure, or as if they meant
Rather to dye, then to be continent.
Thus have we seene a barren, sandy soyle
(Made onely for the husbandmans sad toyle
And not his profit) when the full heav'n powres
His moisture downe, easing himselfe by showres,
Drown'd with the drops, to make us understand
A figure of the Sea upon the Land;
When once those drops are spent, when that the sky
Smiles with his new restor'd serenitie,
Swifter then thought, before that we can say
This was the place, the water's gone away,
Theres a low Ebbe, againe we see the Land
Changing its moisture for its ancient sand.
Yet he that knowes this their infirmity,
At last will pitty it, and from on high,
(When now their thoughts of war they will adjourne
When there's no talke now, but of their returne)
Hee'l hinder it by victory: with that
(About the time that pitchy night had gat
The conquest of the day of which being proud
He wrapt himselfe within his thickest cloud,
Thinking perhaps his conquest to be voyd,
If any saw the triumphs he injoyd)
Vnto our Levite he a vision sends
Clad in her dearest shape, in whom he ends
All thoughts of Fancy: Whom when he had seene
(And quickly he had spy'd her) Fairest Queene
Of heav'n, he sayes, what is there here on earth
That could perswade thee to a second birth,
Thus to appeare agen? needs must thou know
(For ignorance belongs to us below
Excluded out of heav'n) that our sad state
Is for its goodnes prov'd unfortunate;
That Benjamin is conqueror, and that we
Could not revenge, but onely follow thee:
Nor was't one losse, one petty overthrow
Hath daunted us, but (as if fate would shew
All her choyce malice on us) we have try'd
How many wayes 'twas possible t'ave dy'd.
Beleeve it, heavenly one, no cowardise
(Which heretofore being base; is now tearmd wise)
Lost us the day, no providence; no zeale
Nor that (which can the maymes of actions heale)
Councell, and grave advice was wanting to us:
Only the heav'ns, which we had thought would wooe us
To prosecute thy vengeance, and from whence
We look'd for daies, like a good conscience
Shining and cleare, with cruelty unheard
Give vs an overthrow for a reward;
That we can onely (such our wretched fate)
Deplore the losse, which we should vindicate.
Is this your Iustice heav'ns? nay I would know
If it at least be wisedome, thus to show
Your wrath upon you followers? if there be
Such a desire in you to make us see
What powre you have, wherefore d'ye not use
That powre on those, who impiously abuse
Vs and your selves? O there are heathen still,
People that neither feare, nor know your will,
If you will ruine these, or any wise
But lessen, y'ave the fewer Enemies:
On these be powerfull; but if you doubt
Whether such nations may be singled out,
That sinne hath fled the world, then here begin,
For all the Heathen are in Benjamin.
Are we the onely faulty? or am I
Pickt out for eminent Iniquity?
All lights on me, twas I that rays'd these warres,
Twas I that this thicke people like to starres,
Have lessend into Number; I alone
Merit both peoples curses joynd in one,
Benjamin does detest me, and I guesse
Israels hatred is more close, not lesse.
What shall I doe, what course is to be tryde
When safe I cannot goe, nor safe abide?
No more sayes she, nor foolishly conclude
To give complaints in stead of gratitude
Wee'are heard my deare, and he at whose command
The earth will learne to move, the heav'n to stand
Fast as the Center, who brings downe to hell,
And out of deeper mercies (which to tell
Would pose thē that they blesse) brings backe againe,
Making the pleasure greater by the paine,)
Hath crown'd our wishes; O joyfully good!
Not to be had on earth, nor understood:
Heav'ns high superlative, for unto me
Revenge is better then Æternity.
Revenge upon Gods enemies: know my deare
(And know that thou must doe what thou shalt heare)
It is the will of heav'n, when once the skye
Is proud of the next mornings livery,
All Israel should meet, where what shall fall
Iust with our wishes, or exceed them all,
I must not now discover, yet thus much
I dare deliver (my affection's such)
A truth, that is confest as soone as heard,
That he who knew to plague, knowes to reward.
Our Levite wakes, but stretching out an arme
He feels no body, no, nor no place warme
To prove she had beene there, he thinkes 'tmay be
No vision, but a birth of Phantasie:
An issue of a troubled braine that fram'd
Formes to it selfe which Nature hath not nam'd:
Have I not slaine enough he sayes, but still
Is it my office and my curse to kill?
Twas but a dreame injoyn'd me to be bad,
A dreame, a vapour, and am I so mad
For nothing to be monstrous, and commit
A crime, that men shall feare to dreame of it!
But can I disobey what it hath pleas'd
Heav'n to command me? O how I am ceaz'd
With strange extremes! nor readily can tell
Whether this Revelation should dwell
Clos'd in my brest; or whether I goe on
As counting it a Revelation:
There may be guilty silence, if we feare
In the affaire of heaven to wound an eare
With threatning Rhetoricke; this will not be
Excus'd by a pretence of modesty:
Rather twill prove the judgement of just heav'n,
We shall receive the doome we should have giv'n,
Now all the people know what he hath heard,
Now they have all their forwardnesse declar'd
In sacrifice, when Phineas appeares,
One that had lived unto so many years;
He knew not how to count them, and that knew
The Desert wonders, and could prove them true
By his owne sight, that could the more ingage
Men to beleeve, not by his tongue, but age.
Nay I have heard some having duely waigh'd
How long in that high office he had stayd,
Conceive they may affirme without a checke,
Him of the order of Melchisedec;
And prove (as onely judgeing what they see)
Their Priesthoods, by their Priests eternity.
Who having enter'd, all the people bow'd:
(For 'twas not yet as perfect zeale allow'd
To be irreverent to their Priest, that name
Which now is prov'd a title but of shame,
Then was the badge of glory) he indeares
Himselfe, more by his office, then his yeares,
To those, who thinke thinke these two can ne'r agree,
To scorne the Priest, and serve the Deitie.
Thus brave Corvinus, then whom fame nere knew
Any that to an higher vertue grew,
When once it pleas'd Fortune to leave her frowne,
Made an exchange of Fetters for a Crowne,
Thus, not to seeke a forreigne president,
Our Henry, whom the Heav'ns courteously sent
To set a period to our Civill broyles,
To joyne both Roses: after many foyles,
Receiv'd and conquer'd, after he had seene
Himselfe an Exile, who a Prince had beene,
When banishment was envy'd him, when nought
Would please his Enemy, unlesse he bought
His death of him that harbour'd him; ev'n then,
To foole the projects of the cunning'st men,
This wither'd root begins afresh to spring,
And from a banisht coarse revives a King.
Thus (not to seeke out a stale president,
Mentioning mercies after they are spent,
And lost in story) Englands present Ioy
(Whom Fate can onely threaten, not annoy,)
How hath he try'd variety of griefe!
How beene in dangers, as in Rule our Chiefe;
That when there is a speech of suffering,
He is no lesse our Patterne, then our King.
The Seas spoke loud, yet if we rightly poyse,
There was more danger, where there was lesse noyse:
Yet was he freed from both, when in mans eye,
Successe had seem'd to smile on Trechery.
These are your wonders, Heav'n, and not so much
Favours, (although the Favour too be such,
That it does pose our gratitude, and so
Onely proclaimes that we are made to owe
Our proverty of merit) to be short,
Th'are not so much your Favours, as your Sport.
You in an instant rayse, whom we would sweare,
Nayl'd to the Earth, him that had left to feare
More then he suffer'd, that had beene so long
Acquainted with ill lucke, with such a throng
Of misadventures, that he does not know
VVhat it is to be free from them, and so
This courteous intermission he expounds
Rather a Change then Cure of his neer wounds:
You in an unthought Minute can depresse,
VVhom we beleeve in league with Happinesse.
And as upon the Stage we oft have seene,
Him act a Beggar, who a King hath beene:
For no default, but that the Poets art
Thought at that time he best would fit that part:
So in our serious Theaters, when you please
Kings are as varying persons as are these,
Onely in this their disadvantage lyes;
That they may fall, but cannot hope to rise.
They, whom the bands that make a kingdome strong;
Succession to the Crowne both right and long
From worthy Ancestors, obedience
At home, and lastly sure intelligence
Abroad hath fortifyed, those that suppos'd
True joy to be wholly in them inclos'd:
If you but please to frowne, in one short day
(When they not thinke their Enemies on their way)
Are conquer'd by them, and at last retaine
This comfort onely to allay their paine
That their misfortune (if the heavens decree)
May be the portion of their Enemy.
Why then doe trifling miseries so grate
Our minds, and make us more unfortunate
Then heav'n intended? if out of a summe
Of mony (not so rich as troublesome
By the large roome, it occupies,) some one
Willing to teach us moderation,
Nibble a little, how we fret! we rave!
How for our treasure we distraction have!
As if we did beleeve (to say no more)
Heav'n had the onely powre to make us poore.
Israel thought not thus, but does prepare
All things that for the action needfull are:
He thinkes now double diligence is due,
That he may be victorious, and God true.
On the Eastside of Gibeah there stood
An overgrowne and unfrequented wood,
The trees so thickly plac'd, that you would guesse,
(Had you beheld that horrid wildernesse:
How darkenesse all the Mastery had wonne,)
Twas made for the discredit of the Sunne;
Never did any raye pierce through those leaves,
And if at any time it light receives
Tis onely when the heavens doe misse their stroke,
And passing wicked men, murder an Oke.
So that the brightnesse that adornes the same
Serves not so much to'inlighten, as inflame,
Here never did the nimble Fairy tread,
Nor ever any of the Wood-nymphes bred
Within this grove, but it was singled out
For Pluto's regiment, for that bad rout
Of Hell-borne furies, there you might have seene
Alecto stretch'd at her full length betweene
Two fatall Yughs, where while her rest she takes,
She gives an intermission to her Snakes,
Who in a thousand curles there hissing lye,
And she sleepes sweeter by their harmony.
Here had the Canaanite in former times
(Whilest that Religion did consist in crimes)
Offer'd his sonnes in sacrifice, as though
He meant to pay backe heav'n all he did owe
Or did conceive, (that which he should despaire)
To be without sinne, when without an heire.
This horrid place till now had emptie stood,
But now the Israelites conclude it good
To plant an ambush there: for thus they plot
That when the skirmish shall be growing hot,
They will draw backe, to make the Benjamite
Conceive that stratagem to be a flight,
And leave the towne for the pursuit; when straight
Vpon a signe giv'n, they that lie in waite
Shall ceize upon the City, and so force
Their Enemy to such a desp'rate course,
That being pursu'd by those he put to flight,
He shall not know, whether to flie or fight,
Hearken ye silly ones that doe suppose
You ought not to beare Armes against your foes:
VVho having cast off ordinary sense,
Affirme that they doe warre with Providence,
VVho providently warre, that they distrust
The powre, or care of heav'n, who will be just
To their owne cause, which you will noyse to be
A spice of wiser Infidelity.
To these I need no other answer find:
Shall we be foolish because heav'n is kind?
And when your industry might doe as well,
VVill ye inforce God to a Miracle?
It is a truth I grant, which you pretend
That God hath destin'd all things to their end,
Which stands immoveable: nor is't in Fate
To alter what he will præordinate:
Yet never any did so farre proceed
In folly, to affirme that he decreed
Onely the end, that was in Gods intents,
Whilest we did sleepe, to blesse us with events
We dreame not of: Such fondnes cannot find
Any excuse (unlesse they were design'd
Inevitably to't:) for I would know
(If they suppose it possible to shew
Their mind in these affaires, or if they be
Not hindred from an answer by Decree)
Why they doe eate; and why they doe not hence
Conclude rebellion against Providence;
Why they doe cloath themselves; and why desire
When cold oppresseth them to choose a fire;
Have you forgot that for his holy ones,
God can at ease produce e'ne out of stones
As solid sustenance? or is it lost
In your fraile memory, that when Israel crost
The Desert out of Ægypt, forty yeares
Nor Taylors they imploy'd, nor Shoomakers?
Trust me if you your selves thinke your selves true,
Your care does vilify Gods care of you;
And every dish that to your board is brought
Vpbraides him to his face, as if you sought
To mend his purpose; and by this odd feat,
You doe blaspheme as often as you eate.
The Israelites are wiser farre, although
They have that unknowne happinesse, to know
Their victory aforehand, though they heare
This truth from him, from whom they cannot feare
Any deceit, (whose powerfull word alone
Makes that a truth which he resolves upon,)
Although they will allow his Act for chiefe,
Yet they will doe their part too: to be briefe,
Every soldier to himselfe sayes thus;
God will bestow the victory, but by us.
The night they spend in prayer, but whē the morne
Had dimm'd the pride of Cynthia's cleerest horne
By higher luster, being call'd away
Not by the Cocke, the Trumpetter of Day;
But by an earlier trumpet, then you might
By her unwilling, and yet hasting light,
Discerne, and seeing, almost rightly poyse
Whether were more, their number, or their noyse,
And unto which more feare was to be giv'n.
Who fill the Earth with Numbers, with noyse Heav'n.
Benjamin takes th'alarme, and having chose
One in whose faithfulnesse they might repose
A wary confidence; they quit the wall
And to the wider field issue out all,
Lest if they stay'd within, and did oppose
Rampiers and ditches onely to their foes,
They might have bragg'd, (as if that they had won)
Making a prison of their garrison.
Now both the Hoasts themselves so neere do find,
That it would aske more labour t'have declin'd
The field, then to have wonne it, yet they stay
Hoping that innocence is in delay,
If they are slowly guilty: now speares flye
Shiver'd in thousand fitters to the skye;
And whether it revenge or fortune were,
Every peece becomes a Murtherer.
And from their bodies frees a many soule,
Doing that broken, which they could not whole.
Could Xerxes here have sate upon an hill,
To see these warriors, he would not still
Fondly lament, nor lavish out a teare
Because they could not live an hundred yeare,
But melt into just passion away
Because they could not live out all that day.
Now might you have beheld the fiery horse
Proud of his owne, and of his Masters force.
Robb'd of his Master, whom you now might see
Running, as if twere after Liberty,
Or you'd conceive, had you but seene the race
That 'twas no more a battle, but a chase.
No stroke falls idle, nay they are so neere;
They need not strike at all: death is caus'd here
By their bad neighbourhood, the whole and sound
You might have seene here dead without a wound.
To save the guilt and labour of the sword,
Bodies to bodies their owne ends afford.
Now nothing but the dust is to be seene
Which like so many Emblems flyes betweene
They mingled armies, which in silence sayes,
They are no better then the motes they raise,
Thē those poore Atomes: but they think to shrowde
Their acts from sight of heav'n under that cloud,
And therefore doe their utmost: yet as though
Those hands were sluggish, or this fury slow,
The trumpets chid them to a lustier guilt,
And the loud drums proclaim'd, you have not spile
Blood enough yet: O what were they that found
Out first the use and malice of that sound?
Which makes us kill with greedinesse, and when
Tis the Corrupted Nature of most men
Hardly to yeeld unto the destitute,
These will not suffer us to heare their suite.
This drowns the groanes: but now both armies reele,
Now this gives backe some ground, now that doth feele
That it is prest too hardly. Thus the seas
When over it the angry winds doe please
To exercise their fury, doe not know
What course to take, nor whither they should flow:
This wave breakes that, and then another blast
Makes that the conqueror, which was conquerd last.
At length the Israelites give backe indeed,
And though in order, yet with such a speed,
Benjamin calls it Flight, all's ours they cry,
If we can runne we have the victory:
With that, what ever men the towne affords,
Skilfull to use their fingers or their swords,
For spoyle or for pursuite, issue out thence
With such a noyse, they give intelligence
That they have left it emptie: O the vaine
Attempts of foolish man! O deserv'd paine!
Th'are made the spoile, that they intend to make,
So wisely can just heav'ns their vengeance take
On bad attempts, so all our heate asswage,
And make our Ruine greater then our Rage.
It never entred into their proud thought,
They should receive the damage which they sought
To give unto their brethren: who having left
Their woody covert, and the friendly cleft,
Which entertain'd them, by a quicke surprize,
Take the unguarded towne: O who can prize
Those losses to the full? or who rehearse
Those misadventures in an equall verse?
They spare no age, but (cruell) take away
From the old men, the solitary day
They could expect to live: now Infants dye,
Ev'n those, who yet within their mothers lye,
Finding a Night before they see the Morne,
Being buri'd thus, before that they were borne,
For whom their murtherers no crime could choose,
But that they were, and had a life to loose,
Nor does the weaker sex escape the rage
Of these intruders, and as every Age,
So every Person suffers, onely here
May be the difference, (if that any were)
Either they're killd out-right, or which is worse,
They thinke their life to be the greater curse.
Here mothers see their daughters whom they bred
As Votaries unto their Maidenhead,
Vn-virgin'd in their sight, where having lost
That peerelesse jewell, which they valewd most,
They doe receive to vindicate their name
A death from them, from whom they had their shame.
Avarice followes Lust, now they have leisure
To ransacke all those Mineralls of treasure
Long peace and thrift had hoarded up, at last
As children when their Appetite is past
Spoyle what they cannot eate, and badly kind
Pamper their dogs with that they leave behind:
So these, as surfeiting with such a store,
(Which made them lose all teare of being poore)
What is not ready spoyle, give to the fire,
Whose conqu{illeg.}ring flames unto the heav'ns aspire,
As boasting of their service: through the towne,
Swifter then any thing that has renowne
For speedinesse, they runne, one houre does spoile
(Vnlucky houre) what was an Ages toyle,
Now cracke the houses, now the Temples fry,
Now the poore Citizens resolv'd to dye,
Doubt of what death: and know not which to try,
The fire, the downefalls, or the Enemy,
Had this misfortune hapned in the Night
(Though Nature had oppos'd) such a full light
Had made a day, and so againe had wonne
A Conquest of the towne, and of the Sunne.
Never did Sailor with such joy behold
Castor and Pollux when his ship was roll'd
Vpon the angry Ocean, (whose proud waves
Made the most haughty mindes freeze into slaves
With a base feare,) as Israel does view
Those flames, which he does feare not to be true
They are so great, and yet he hopes to see
These flames to light him to a victory.
Now all the face of things is chang'd anew,
Now those which earst seem'd vanquish'd, do pursue:
The Israelites confirming by their Fight,
That they could cause as well as act a Flight.
Bejamin growes amaz'd, and does not know
What he should doe, nor on what grounds to goe,
Which probably seeme safe: if he should flye
He runnes away unto the Enemy:
And shall he fight: alas! but he will find
It is impossible to fight behind,
Where he shall be assay'ld: yet he shifts ground,
And figures out his battle in a round.
And since he hath no hope to scape away,
Hee'l nobly sell, not give away the day.
They never fought till now, all the whole day
Before, was onely somewhat fiercer Play,
Murder in jest, but now they are so fierce
As if they would inforce their swords to pierce
Beyond the body; this a while, at length
Despaire does yeeld the victory to strength;
And Fortune (that the world henceforth might find
That they had injur'd her who call'd her blind)
Crownes the best side, and providently tryes
At once to prove their Conquest, and her Eyes.
The Parallell is easie; was't not thus,
When Heav'n was pleas'd to be as kind to us?
We felt the prickles first, but then our Nose
Suckt in the sweeter vertue of the Rose
We had successe, as it were chose, and pickt,
And, what we feard to suffer, did inflict.
When Brett and Burrowes (that I speake their due)
Reviv'd to France, Talbot and Montague.
(O too like Montague, that lost thy breath,
By the same fatall Engine of quicke death.)
When the choyce valour of each rancke; and fyle
Made up a double Sea within the Isle
Of blood and teares, O give us thankes, kind heav'n,
And adde a vertue to our Fortune giv'n.
But soft, I heare the wise man say, Commend
No man, nor action till you see the end.
Our night is not yet past, or if it be
Tis but the dawning, not the day we see,
And but a misty dawning, we must know
That yet we have not payd God what we owe
And that would worse then any Madnesse be
To have a joy ere a security,
Vnder the rodd to laugh: yet we conclude
Patience does please no lesse then gratitude;
And he that can orecome a losse, nor be
Too much cast downe for want of victory,
Is in some part victorious, and can say
Tis blest to be a conquerour any way.
That we may all acknowledg his desert,
Who nobly gain'd a conquest of the heart
Of them, whose bodies he had conquer'd first,
To whom he then discover'd, what he durst,
And after what his Nature was, when he
In the sad field had spent his Cruelty,
For when they offer'd to redeeme their dead,
Summes which another would have vanquished,
He freely yeelds unto the sutors breath,
And gives the Grave, as easily as the Death,
Whilst they doe give—O how I blush to tell,
A poisond knife, a poison that will dwell
And eate into their fame till earth be gone,
Till poyson have no more to worke upon.
Teach us our right to him, but then to yon
What shall we give? and yet what not leave due?
Then, O kind Heav'n, for this let me be pleader,
May we still sing your praise, who led our Leader,
And now I hast unto my songs conclusion;
Israels conquest, Benjamins confusion:
Of all that valiant number which but now
Made treble numbers to their valor bow:
Onely sixe hundred scape away, so few,
They were scarceable to commit anew
The Crime for which they suffer'd; had not Night
Became their Vmpire and forbad the Fight,
Those few had perisht too; then at the last
Let future Ages learne of Ages past
How vice rewards her servants! Let them be
Afraid at leastwise of the misery,
Who slight the sinne: why should a beauteous face
Make my soule foule? and an externall grace
Bereave me of my inward? O despaire!
Shall I be bad, because another's faire?
Hence that poore folly, rather let us winne
A conquest by the losse of Benjamin.
To know that those bely'd, and stolne delights
Are not of so long lasting as the Nights,
In which we did injoy them, how the Day
Takes both their darknesse, and our sweets away:
To understand that tardy heav'n is just,
That Ruine is the consequent of Lust.
And now O Father, once more I repaire
To thy great presence, O thou onely Faire,
(Who dwelling in the light that none comes neere,
Canst not be seene of us, because too cleer;
To whom created beauties if compar'd,
Ev'n such as have the wisest eyes ensnar'd,
Are nothing but Deformity at best,
Durt somewhat better colourd then the rest)
Instruct my youth, O teach that I may know,
What mischiefes lurke under a seemely show;
What a sweet danger woman is: O thou
To whom the knees that doe not love, doe bow,
Whom all obey, ev'n such as have no sense,
Who doe not know their owne obedience;
Whom all obey, ev'n such as doe goe on
In a perpetuall Rebellion,
The Spirits accurst: Grant me, that chastly wise
I enter into Covenant with mine eyes,
Never to looke on Woman, not to see
What would perswade my soule to forsake thee,
To make a God of flesh: But if that I
Forc'd by Temptation, or Necessity,
Must see my Ruine, yet thus much, O thou
Whō my soule loves, & would more, knew she how,
(For his deare sake and worth, in whom was found
Onely a place, no reason for a wound)
If I must have the sight, yet I require
I may at leastwise not have the desire,
If I must see, let it be to despise
So shall my heart be chast, if not mine eyes.