Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Prophet doth his fault discover,
Perswades the men to cast him over:
They row, and toyle, but doe no good,
They pray to be excus'd from blood.
So Ionah fram'd this speech to their demand,
“Not that I seeke to traverse the command
“Of my deare Lord, and out of minde perverse,
“T'avoid the Ninivites, doe I amerce
“My selfe: Nor that I ever heard you threat,
“(Unlesse I went to Niniveh (the great)
“And doe the message sent her from the Lord)
“That you would kill, or cast me over-boord,
“Doe, I doe this; 'Tis my deserved fine:
“You all are guiltlesse, and the fault is mine:
“Tis J, 'tu I alone, 'tis I am he:
“The tempest comes from heaven, the cause from me;
“You shall not lose a haire for this my sin,
“Nor perish for the fault that mine hath bin;
“Lo, I the man am here: Lo, I am be,
“The root of all; End your revenge on me;
“J fled th'Eternall God; O, let me then
“(Because I fled my God) so flie from men:
“Redeeme your lives with mine; Ah, why should I,
“Not guiltlesse, live; and you not guilty, die?

“I am the man, for whom these billowes dance,
“My death shall purchase your deliverance;
“Feare not to cease your feares; but throw me in;
“Alas! my soule is burthen'd with my sin,
“And God is just, and bent to his Decree,
“Which certaine is, and cannot alter'd be;
“I am proclaim'd a Traitor to the King
“Of heaven an earth: The windes with speedy wing
“Acquaint the Seas: The Seas mount up on high,
“And cannot rest, untill the Traytor die;
“Oh, cast me in, and let my life be ended;
“Let Death make Justice mends, which Life offended;
“Oh, let the swelling waters me enbalme;
“So shall the Waves be still, and Sea be calme.
So said, th'amazed Mariners grew sad,
New Love abstracted, what old Feare did adde;
Love called Pity: Feare call'd vengeance in;
Love view'd the Sinner; Feare beheld the Sin;
Love cry'd out, Hold; for better sav'd than spil'd;
But Feare cry'd, Kill; O better kill, than kill'd:
Thus plung'd with Passions they distracted were
Betwixt the hopes, and doubts of Love and Feare;
Some cry'd out, Savé: if this foule deed we doe,
Vengeance that haunted him, will haunt us too:
Others cry'd, No; May rather death befall
To one (that hath deserv'd to dye) then all:
Save him (sayes one) Oh save the man that thus
His dearest blood hath profer'd to save us;
No, (sayes another) vengeance must have blood,
And vengeance strikes most hard, when most withstood.
In fine (say all:) Then let the Prophet die,
And we shall live; For Prophets cannot lye.
Loth to be guilty of their owne, yet loth
To haste poore Ionahs death, with hope, that both

Th'approching evils might be at once prevented,
With prayers and paines reutter'd, reattented,
They try'd new wayes, despairing of the old,
Love quickens courage, makes the spirits bold;
They strove, in vaine, by toile to win the shore,
And wrought more hard than er'e they did before:
But now, both hands and hearts begin to quaile,
(For bodies wanting rest, must faint and faile;)
The Seas are angry, and the waves arise,
Appeas'd with nothing but a Sacrifice;
Gods vengeance stormeth like the raging Seas,
Which nought but Ionah (dying) can appease:
Fond is that labour, which attempts to free,
What Heaven hath bound by a divine decree:
Ionah must die, Heaven hath decreed it so,
Jonah must die, or else they all die too;
Jonah must die, that from his Lord did flie;
The Lott determines, Ionah then must die;
His guilty word confirmes the sacred Lott,
Ionah must die then, if they perish not.
“If Iustice then appoint (since he must die,
“Said they) us Actors of his Tragedy,
“(We beg not (Lord) a warrant to offend)
“O pardon blood-shed, that we must intend;
“Though not our hands, yet shall our hearts be cleare;
“Then let not stainlesse consciences beare
“The pond'rous burden of a Murders guilt,
“Or pay the price of blood that must be spilt;
“For loe, (deare Lord) it is thine owne decree,
“And we sad ministers of Iustice be.

Meditat. 5.

Bvt stay a while; this thing would first be known:
Can Ionah give himselfe, and not his owne?
That part to God, and to his Countrey this
Pertaines, so that a slender third is his;
Why then should Ionah doe a double wrong,
To deale himselfe away, that did belong
The least unto himselfe? or how could hee
Teach this, (Thou shalt not kill) if Ionah be
His lifes owne Butcher? What, was this a deed
That with the Calling he profest, agreed?
The purblinde age (whose workes (almost divine)
Did meerely with the oyle of Nature shine,
That knew no written Law, nor Grace, nor God,
To whip their conscience with a steely rod,)
How much did they abhorre so foule a fact?
When (led by Natures glimpse) they made an act,
Selfe-murderers should be deny'd to have
The charitable honour of a Grave:
Can such doe so, when Ionah does amisse?
What, Ionas, Isr'els Teacher! and doe this?

The Law of Charity doth all forbid,
In this thing to doe that which Ionah did;
Moreo're, in charity, 'tis thy behest,
Of dying men to thinke, and speake the best;
The mighty Samson did as much as this;
And who dare say, that Samson did amisse,
If heavens high Spirit whisper'd in his eare
Expresse command to doe't? No wavering feare
Drew backe the righteous Abram's armed hand
From Isaacks death, secur'd by heavens command.

Sure is the knot that true Religion tyes,
And Love that's rightly grounded, never dyes;

It seemes a paradoxe beyond beliefe,
That men in trouble should prolong reliefe;
That Pagans (to withstand a Strangers Fate)
Should be neglective of his owne estate.

Where is this love become in later age?
Alas! 'tis gone in endlesse pilgrimage
From hence, and never to returne (I doubt)
'Till revolution wheele those times about:
Chill brests have starv'd her here, and she is driven
Away; and with Astræa fled to heaven.
Poore Charity, that naked Babe is gone,
Her honey's spent, and all her store is done;
Her winglesse Bees can finde out ne're a bloome,
And crooked Ate doth usurpe her roome:
Nepenthe's dry, and Love can get no drinke,
And curs'd Ardenne flowes above the brinke.
Brave Mariners, the world your names shal hallow,
Admiring that in you, that none dare follow;
Your friendship's rare, and your conversion strāge,
From Paganisme to zeale? A sudden change!
Those men doe now the God of heaven implore,
That bow'd to Puppets, but an houre before;
Their zeale is fervent, (though but new begun)
Before their egge-shels were done off, they runne:
And when bright Phœbus in a Summer tide,
(New risen from the bosome of his Bride)
Enveloped with misty fogges, at length
Breakes forth, displaies the mist, with Southerne strength;
Even so these Mariners (of peerlesse mirrour)
Their faith b'ing veil'd within the mist of errour,
At length their zeale chac'd ignorance away,
They left their Puppets, and began to pray.

Lord how unlimited are thy confines,
That still pursu'st man in his good designes!

Thy mercy's like the dew of Hermon hill,
Or like the Oyntment, dropping downward still
From Aarons head, to beard; from beard to foote:
So doe thy mercies drench us round about:
Thy love is boundlesse; Thou art apt and free,
To turne to Man, when Man returnes to thee.