The works of Sir William Mure of Rowallan Edited with introduction, notes, and glossary by William Tough |
I. | VOL. I |
II. |
The works of Sir William Mure of Rowallan | ||
I. VOL. I
EARLY MISCELLANEOUS POEMS
I. ANE CONFLICT TUIX LOVE AND RESSOUN.
Apollo's brightnes did assaile,
And forc'd him chainge his course,
Towards ye Ocean streamis,
To coole his burning beimis
In ould Neptunus' source,
And quhen the Night the Stigian caues had schroudit,
And ye Horizons of myne eyes o'rcloudit,
Appeird then, sounding Loues alarmes.
Ane Ensigne displayed
In sing of ware he bair,
Quhose colours to declair
Ȝit maks my hert affrayed,
Resolu'd, by force, by subtil slight, or treassoune,
To siege, and sack the Rampier of my ressoune.
As one quho lothed to sie ye Light,
A bow bent in his hand
He caryed to invaid
All such as durst wpbraid,
Or contrar his com̄and.
Inventing then all the Ingynes he can,
To brash my breast ye battery thus began.
Both ower mein men, and o're kingis;
Quhose schafts hath ay subdued
Ye most heroick hertis;
Quhose flames and deidly derts
No martiall mynds eschued;
Ȝeild thou and learne how to practize and proue
The heavinly Joyes, and suggared sweits of Loue.
Of all pleasoures ye most perfyte,
To spend thy tender ȝeiris
In loves lascivious layes
Sporting thy ȝouthfull dayes
In Vens wantoune weiris:
O, so the springtyme of thyne age t'imploy,
It is to baith in oceanes of Joy.”
And for ye present purpose painted,
Mou'd, (by thair chairming power,)
Against me to conspyre,
Ȝouth, courage, and desyer,
To haist my fatall houer;
Ressoune alone, to ratifie my right,
To Cupid then replyed, suolne wt dispicht:
R.
And kill ane hert, bot for a vieu;
Thy pleasour is bot paine,
A dreame, a toy, a schadou,
Lyk to a blooming meadou,
Quhose pryd doth schort remaine.
Thy sweitest joyes proue oft in end most sowre,
Lyk to a fair sunschyne befoir a schoure.”
All flaming in voluptuouse fyre,
Wt fervent mynds assayed
My Sences to suppryse,
Esteiming me wnwyse
To ressoune to be tyed,
So that, by only his adwyce and will,
My actiounes all must be directed still.
Z.
Of lytill vertue, worth, or merit,
Can tolerat to liue,
Thrall to an oyers will,
His humour to fulfill,
As he com̄and doth giwe.
Fy thou, contemne such servile slawischnes,
If any spunk of valour ye possesse.”
R.
No lesse he profits hes bein dumbe;
Thoght thine owin eyes be blind,
Ȝit woldst thou teach ane oyer,
To saile wtout ane routher,
Contrair both waue and wind;
To losse ane Infinit and endles treassour,
In hope to gaine ye fleiting frooths of pleassour.”
To hazard or escheu ȝe storme:
To suime in sueatned seas
Now loues delights bereaues me:
Now feir of falling greeues me,
To such as raschly flies:
Sua, now to loue, now contrairely inclyn'd,
A field of fancies musterd in my mynd.
Ȝit loth to trust in Cupid's wings,
Tuix danger and desyer,
Thus howering to and fro,
Ȝouth newer ceas'd to blo,
Forging affectiounes fyre.
Bot ressoune, then, perceauing my estait,
Wt wraithfull voice did thus begin to threat:
R.
Thy witt dround in a boundles deepe,
Thy senses so ensnared,
To sie and ȝit miskno
Ane labyrinth of woe,
For ye (puir wretch), prepair'd?
Behold h'ill proue, quho now doth ye promote,
Ane monstruouse Minotaur to cutt thy throate.
Ye poysonous potioune of late rewing,
Ȝouths venemous infectioune;
In age, a doating madnes,
A schort abiding glaidnes,
A foolisch imperfectioune,
A basse-borne passioune schairce rype till rottin,
Tuix hatefull lust and Idilnes begottin.”
C.
Its not his counsell thou must craue;
Bot once his ȝock reject,
And proue yat divine pleassour,
That Joy beȝond all meassour,
First from aboue direct,
That heavinl[y] vniting of tuo mynds in one,
Quhich nothing can dissolue bot death alone.”
Ye chairming Sirenes songs qch hears,
Flie ye voluptuouse voice,
Quhich hes no other scope
But guyde ye on ye rock
Of thy perpetuell losse.
In tyme tak heid then, least too lait thou mourne,
Ye port is patent, bot wtout retourne.”
C.
Of false philosophie consists;
By sophistrie he schaues
Loues hon̄y to be gall,
A bait only to thrall
Such as obeys his lawes.
Bot quho into such Rhethorick reposses,
Lyfes sueitest joyes, and true contentmēt lossis.
Of no lesse momēt then thy lyfe,
Present, befoir thyne eyes,
Ye cause of our dissentioune,
And ponder my intentioune
Wt ressounes fenȝied eyes.
Let yen thy hert discern quho best doth merit.
If subtile fraud, or faith, sould the inherit.”
Armies of diverse thotis did ludge;
Ȝit, out of judgments deepe,
Did loue in end prefer,
Quhose adversar did erre
And thus pronunc'd decreit:
Hencefoorth contemne, reject and banisch reassoune,
A crocodoil, wt tears obscuiring treassoune.
Quhich joynes tuo soules wtout diworce;
Quhose vertue and true power
No crosse can oght impaire,
Bot still growes mair and mair,
Quhen most it seimes to lowre.
Since then this heavinly essence thus doth proue,
Let death alone put period to thy loue.”
II. MES AMOURS ET MES DOULEURS SONT SANS COMPARISOUNE.
Wt fairest schads of trees o'rschadoued, wnder;
Ye cooling air, wt calmest blasts, rejoyses
To sport hir wt hir locks, o'rcume wt wonder;
So then, admiring hir most heavinly featour,
I mervel'd much if scho was form'd by natour.
Had force to robe proud Cupid of his dairts;
Hir schamefast, blusching smyles quho ever sies,
Must pairt perforce, liuing behind yair herts.
I stuid astonisch'd, greedie to behold
So rair perfectioune as cannot be told.
Wt voice angelicall did thus begin:
“Thy gesture doth bewray thy mynd is wexed,
Wt crosses compast and invironed in:
Schau then if loue, or qt misfortoune else,
Such sings of sorow in thy saule compellis.”
A.
“No crosse at all, fair dame, no force in loue
Can aght disquyet or perturbe my mynde.
Ye wonders now ar present me doth moue
To sie heavins excellence in humane kynd.”
“No, Cupid the molestis, cease to deny him.”
A.
“Fy, treacherouse loue, fond Cupid I defy him.”
His bow bent in his hand ready to nocke:
Bot qll he aim'd, of power quyte deprywed,
Himself he band in his awin flattring ȝocke.
Feeding his eyes on beuties tempting lookes,
His pain he thot to ease wt baited hookes.
Out of the anguisch of his hert did plaine:
“Ah, mackles dame, quhom all ye world admires,
Pitty, I pray, my never ceasing paine.
Do not thy rigour wnto me extend,
Quhome once no mortall durst presume t'offend.
Save then or sloe ane captiue beggand grace:
Receaue, in sing that thou hes won the field,
Ye bow, ye schafts, ye quaver and ye brace,
Once qch I bruick'd, bot now wtout invy
I yeild to the, more worthie thame nor I.”
Wt proud, presuming Cupid's conquered spoyle,
He then, remitted, fled away wnhairmed:
Bot, (woes me,) left behind his tort'ring toyle.
Scho, spying me ȝit wnacquaint in loue,
Hir new got dairts throught my puir hert did roue.
[B.]
In loue if any force, no[w] proue, I pray:
Too lait, I feir, thow rew thou did espy him,
Thyne insolence 'gainst him or he repay.”
Disdainfully delywring thus hir words,
No small displeasour to my saule affordis.
Admir'd so quick a chainge from joy to woe;
Doubted myself; ewin gif it was my hert;
My tears, quhich trickling from myne eyes did go,
Bot (ah) in vaine, for ȝit my wound did bleede;
No spaits of teires culd quench ye boyling leede.
Dyed in dispair, in hope againe I liued.
All pleasours past agredg'd my present paine,
Hir froune did kill, hir smyle againe reviued.
Qll death I wish'd, lyf then refuised to liue me:
Liue qll I wold, death then propon'd to riue me.
To be aweng'd on him quhose schaftes did greiue me:
Alace! ane faint persuit; I furthered noht.
For he, now Cupid, now a spreit, did liue me.
Thus metamorphos'd fled away for ayde,
In Beuties lippes, qr I durst not invaid.
Rendir ye fortresse, and his suirest scheild.
Great searche I maid to mak ye wretch repent
His bold attemps, intreating him to ȝeild.
Bot nather prayers could prevaile nor wisses,
Then I resolued to kill him euen wt kissis.
Out of hir eyes into hir lipps againe.
“Stay, fond wretch, stay,” thus I beguth to chyde him,
“Or chuise hir hert, thou chainges oft in vaine.
Sua, as by the, our lipps els ar vnited,
Our herts als to conioyne may be invited.”
To liue his hold, delichting in my woe:
Sche lykwyse, quhom I serued, bot scorn'd my loue,
Lauching to sie my trickling teirs doune go.
The more sche did perceaue increase my paine,
The more sche mach'd my loue wt cold disdaine.
And liue no more, cros'd wt consuming cair?
No! let hir froune and flit, yairs no remeid;
I liue resolued neaver to dispair.
Content I am, (and sua my faith deserwest,)
My spring be toylsume wt a pleasent herwest.
III. ANE REPLY TO I CAIR NOT QUITHER I GET HIR OR NO.
And fancie alone quhair favour hath place,
Such frozen affectioune I ewer disdain'd.
Can oght be impaird by distance or space?
My loue salbe endles quhair once I affect.
Ewin thoght it sould please hir my service reject,
Still sall I determine, till breath and lyfe go,
To loue hir quither scho loue me or no.
Sall I match hir wnkyndnes by prowing wngrait?
O no! in hir keiping my hert must remaine,
To honour and loue hir, more then sche can heat.
Hir pleasour can nowayes retourne to my smairt,
Quhose lyfe, in hir power, must stay or depairt.
Thoght fortoune delyt into my owirthro,
I loue hir quither scho loue me or no.
And chainge for a secreit surmize of disdaine;
Loues force, and trew vertue to such is wnknowne,
Quhose faintnes of courage is constancies staine.
Quhair once I affect my favour sall finisch.
So sall I determine, till breath and lyfe go,
To loue hir quither scho loue me or no.
Finis, 1614, 10 Octob.
IV. ELEGIE.
Alace! qll I begin into my mynd to callThe tragick end of Icarus and his most fatall fall;
My stait yen worse then his, if any worse can be,
Convoyed wt duilfull death, ensues to end the fait's decree,
Lyk as he did presume, too hie wt borrowed pends,
Bot by the raiging force of floods o'rquhelm'd but mercie endis.
Sua qll aboue my bounds fondly I did aspyre,
Deceau'd by loues alluiring wingis, I fell in quenchles fyre,
In quhich alace I boyle but mercie or retourne.
Sche quhom I serue the fornace feeds, quhair my puir hert doth burne;
Bot causles is sche blaim'd, in hir no wayt remaines,
Nocht els bot cruell Cupid's ire my martyrdome constrainis.
In endles pain I liue, in furiouse flam̄s I fume,
Death still doth threat my dayes to end, I sie no other doome.
My passiounes ar extreame, my hert doth brist for woe,
My tears lyk water from a spring doune from myne eyes doth go.
Consum'd wt secreit sighs, but confort I remaine;
Ilk thing on earth gainst me conspyre to agravat my paine.
Bot most of all, alace! that sche by quhom I liue,
Feeling, by simpathie, my smairt, from death wold me reviue.
Bot (ah), the frouning faits, alwayes my fatall foes,
Noch bot our mynds permits to meet, to periodize our woes.
Ȝit thot ane perfyte end in loue ye faits deny,
Still sall I hir adoir and serwe, ewer till death envy:
Let fortoune froune, the world invy, hir smyle will me reviue.
And thot, against my will, distant we must remaine,
Ȝit in a breist sall both our herts no more at all be tuaine.
Thoght crossis intervein to mak our myndis remoue,
Ȝit still sall I most constant liue, death sall dissolue my loue.
Finis, 1611.
V. CHAUNSOUNE.
The baschfull blinks, and comely grace,
The forme of hir angelick face
Deckt wt ye quintascence of natour,
To none inferiour in place,
Oft am I forc'd,
Altho diuors'd
From presence of my deirests eyes,
The too slou day
To steil away,
Admiring hir, my smairt quho sies.
And quyt dissolue in tears my hert
To satisfie hir causles smairt;
Ȝit rather sche delytis to kill,
Then any joy to me impairt.
Bot since ye faits,
Qch ruils all staits,
Such tragick luck to me doth threat,
Do quhat sche can,
Resolued I am
To loue hir more then sche can heat.
Or, if it please hir prove wnkynd,
Sall I abstrack my loyal mynd?
O no! its sche must hail my sair.
For hir I loth no to be pyn'd.
Shee, I suppose,
Lyk to the rose,
The prick befoir ye smell impairts.
Hert-breking woes
Oft-tymes forgoes
The mirth of murning, martyred herts.
Finis,
VI. ANAGRAME.
Quhoise name aboue both fame and envy flies;
No rair decoirment natour can impairt,
Qch doth not schyne in those sueit Angel's eyes,
Heauin's admiratioune, and ye world's terrour,
Earth's excellence, and loue's most machles mirrour.
Quhair beutie, (by wnspotted puirnes graced,)
Adorn'd wt chest Dianais sacred croune,
(To tymes amaizment,) from above is plac'd;
So that to the, in nather earth nor heauin,
In all preferment, any match is giwin.
In diuin rairnes, vertue, worth, or witt.
Euin so, (the heauins doth kno,) in true affectioune,
In spotles loue, no maches I admitt.
Since then on earth machles we liue alone,
Justly, (sueit loue), we sould be mach'd in one.
Finis,
VII. ANE REPROCH TO YE PRATLER.
Enviouse wretch, on earth ye most ingrait,In Venus Court thy libertie is loissed,
Deseruing punischment as Momus mait,
Misconstruing ladies mirrily disposit.
If proud Ixion, in ye hels incloisit,
Doth suffer tortour on ye restles quheele,
Justly from all felicity depoisit,
Junois discredit quho did not conceale;
And if Acteon Cynthya's ire did feele,
Turn'd in a hert, (thus for a vieu revengit),
Much more thou, then, quho ladyes did reveale,
In worse then he demerites to be chaingit;
Form'd in a doge, to bark at such, most meet,
As chalmer talk divulgats on ye street.
Finis,
VIII. TO YE TUNE OF PERT JEAN.
Natours triumph, and beuties lyfe,
Earth's ornament, my hopes full hight,
My only peace, and pleasing stryfe
Let mercie mollifie thy mynd!
A Saturnes hert sould Venus haue?
Or sould thou proue to him wnkynd,
Quho humbly lyfe of ye doth craue?
Since all thy pairts sum special grace
Decoris, to schau thy heavinly race,
Vertue thy mynd, and loue thy face,
Proportioune braue thy featour,
Pitty then must neids haue place
In such a diuin creatour,
Quhose sueitnes
And meiknes
Exceids ye bounds of natour.
(Tuo sparks t'inflame a world of loue),
My fatal thraldome then ensued,
Then did my liberty remoue.
Thair first infected was my mynd,
Loues nectared poysoune thair I drank,
Thy sacred countenance so schyn'd
So far aboue all humane rank.
(Those schyning stares), thair fault repair,
Dispersing by thair beimes preclair
The clouds of thy disdaining.
Wosdome, vertue, beutie rair,
In the haue all remaining.
Let not then
Ye spot then
Of rigour be thy staining.
Ye sunschyne of those glorious rayes?
Or sould thoise louely smyling lips
Breath foorth affectiounes delayes?
Let mercie countervail thy worth,
And measour pitty by my paine;
Sua, thy perfectiounes to paint foorth
Ane endles labour sall remaine.
Lat beuties beames then thau away,
(Reflecting only on ws tuay),
The ycinesse of loues delay,
And melt disdaines cold treassour.
Natours due so sall we pay,
Baithing in boundles pleassour,
Inioying
That toying,
Quhose sueits exceid all meassour.
Finis,
IX. [ANOTHER VERSION OF THE SAME.]
[In this version the first two verses are the same as in the other, with the following exceptions:— Verse 1, line 2, has “Triumph of nature,” for “Natours triumph.” Verse 1, line 8, reads—“Quho lyfe of the alone doth craue.” Verse 2, line 6, has “potions,” for “poysoune.” Verse 3 is given here in full.]
Those eyes quhos smyls seame voyd of wraith?
Or sould those soule enchanting lips
Pronounce the sentance of my death?
Banisch disdain, (my deirt), O spair
In guiltles blood thy hands to stayne!
Be bountifull as thow art fair,
Measur thy pitty wt my pain.
So shall my Muse rich trophes rayse
To eternize thy endles prayse,
Qll heavins haue stars, qll sune hath rayes,
Wt light all creatours cheering;
Qll Cupid's scepter earth o'rsweyes
Nor great nor small forbearing,
Thy prayse sall
Amaze all
Things sensible of heering.
Finis,
X. TO THE TUNE OF ANE NEW LILT.
And subdued my saulis affectioune.
Cupid's dairt hath so prevail'd,
That I must liue in his subiectioune,
Tyed till one,
Quho's machles alone,
And secund to none
In all perfectioune.
Since my fortoune such must be,
No chainge sall pairt my loue and me.
Sueitnes, modestie, bontie but meassour,
Decks her sueit celestial face,
Rich in beuties heavinly treassour.
Joy nor smairt
Sall newer diuert
My most loyall hert
For paine nor pleassour.
Bot resolu'd, I auou, till I die,
No chainge sall pairt my loue and me.
(Altho by fortounes smyle invited),
Ws tuo ewer to diuorce,
By such a sympathie vnited.
Ye waw'ring estaits
Of such as ye faits
Hath chaing'd or retreited.
But recourse in any degre,
No chainge sall pairt my loue and me.
And alter alone our choyse and electioune.
Let no chainge our loue diminisch,
Nor breed from constancie any defectioune.
Time nor space,
No distance of place,
Sall ewer deface
Our fervēt affectioune.
Then, (sueit loue), thus let us decrie,
No chainge sall pairt ws qll we die.
Finis,
XI. ANE LETTER TO ANE MUSICALL TUNE.
Sad tragoedies behold alone!
Ears, heir no sounds quhich can afford delight,
Till sight and heiring both be gone!
Hands, forbeare to tuich
Oght ȝor tuiching can bewitch!
Ah! since scho doth disdain,
Eyes, ears, hands and heart,
Seing, heiring, feeling, smairt
All in one consort plain,
Since sche, alace!
Quhose bright angelick face
Did sett my woundit hert on fyre,
Will ȝeild no grace,
Regairdles of my cace,
Bot doth against hir awne conspyre.
Regrait, since sche is butt remorce!
Ears, heir no sweits, since nothing sweit apears,
Qll thus the faits do us diworce!
Die, most haples heart!
Newer cease wt greif to smairt,
In tears and sighs consume.
Sorow, smairt and greiff,
Be only thy releiff,
Since sche hath giwin thy dome.
Compassioun on my woe,
Or lett no longer lyf remain.
Lyf giwes no more
To cuir my inward soare,
Bot ȝeilds the greatter sence of pain.
(Ay me!) this is my best rewaird,
And, for my paines, reaps wndeserwed disdain.
My serwice sche doth thus regaird,
Thot I plead in vain
Loue for loue of hir t'obtean,
And humbly begs remorce;
Thoght my tears doun rain,
Qch my sorowing cheiks do stain,
Such is hir bewties force
To charme my mynd,
To liue, alace, thus pynd
For hir, in such a ruefull stait,
Resoluing still
To wait wpon hir will,
And loue hir more then sche can heat.
The prick, before the smell be found,
Sua may my Loue now, wt disdainfull dairts
Thocht sche my hert but mercie wound.
Sche the stroak did giwe,
Only sche must me reviue,
Thocht reuthles now sche proue.
Such ane heavinly face
Can not bot giwe pitty place,
And ȝeild at lenth to loue.
Sueit! then, the more
Thou heats, I sall adore,
My changles mynd
No tyme sall mak wnkynd,
Bot death my loue sall end alone.
Finis,
XII. HYMNE.
Help, help, O Lord! sueit saviour aryse,Giwe ear unto my humble suits, and heir my wofull cryes,
My sorowing sighes, (guid Lord!), do not dispyse,
Awalk, my sillie saul, in sin qch too securely lyes.
Help (blessed Lord!) I pray,
Thy servant in distresse;
Haist, (sueit Jehova!) schune delay,
My hynous sins redresse.
Deir Father, I confesse
Still yat I ran astray;
Bot now recall me, not ye lesse,
Out of ye wandring way,
In quhich so long
I have gone wronge,
Alace!
Accompany'd wt bluid convoyes.
One drop afford,
O heavinly Lord!
Of grace,
And cloath my sorowing saule wt joyes.
Thyne ayde, O my creatour, I implore;
Withhold from me thy favour now no more;
Justly thot I deserued thyne ire,
And nothing bot hels fyre,
Contemne not my desyre.
Erect my puir dejected spreit,
Prostrat befoir thy mercies feete,
Full sore affrayed to pleid for grace,
Wnworthy to present thy face.
Ȝit suffer not, sueit Lord, I pray,
My silly saule decay,
Bot once remitt, wtout delay,
My sinis for now and ay.
XIII. THE EPITAPH OF THE RYT VENERABLE, GODLY AND LEARNED FATHER GEORGE,
BE GRACE FROM GOD, ORDERLY CALLIT, AND BE HIS PRINCE APOYNTED TO BE GREATEST PRELAT IN SCOTLAND, ARCHBISCHOPE OF SANCTANDROIS.
Heir lyes inclos'd Sanctandrois richest treassour,
A pearle but meassour hath ye word ill loossed
Quhoise mynd repoissed in no decaying pleassour,
A machles Phoenix, quho, from mein estait,
Becam a prelat and a prince's mait.
A painfull pastour, worthy such a place,
Too schort a space his natioune hath decoired;
Quho now restord to earth, doth rest in peace,
Receaued in grace, the heawins in sanctis hath stoired.
Quhoise corps t'intomb, glaid ar ye sensles stones,
Promou'd to honour by his buried bones,
In Zoilum
Thou then, quho by thy false and fenzied fact,Strywes to detract this prudent prelat's name,
Bewar such schame becum thy suirest hap,
Thrawin from ye tap of fortoune to defame.
No blot, no blemisch, no defect, no moth
Presum'd to enter in so rich a cleath.
XIV. ANE EPITAPH (EFTER YE VULGAR OPINIOUNE)
WPON YE D(EATH) OF GEORGE GLAIDSTANES B. of S. A.
Glaidstones is gone, his corps doth heir duell,Bot qr be his oyer halfe no man can tell.
The heauins doth abhor to ludge such a ghost,
Quho still, qll he liued, to Pluto raid post.
The earth hath expell'd him, as loathing such load,
Quho honoured Bacchus and no other god.
Since both then reiect him, t' this outcast of heavin
In midst of ye furies a place must be giwin;
Quhose covetouse mynd no richesse contented,
Bot heiping wp treassour wnmyndfull quho lēt it,
Till contrarie fortoun, by turning ye dyce,
Metamorphos'd his thowsands in milleounes of lyce;
Quhich endit ye dayes of this sensuall slaue,
Wnwordy the earth sould ȝeild him a graue.
By him quho wischeth that this wretches fait
May giwe exemple wnto ewery stait;
That hyer Powares be wt feir regairdit,
Or by this Athist's punischmēt rewairded.
Finis,
XV. THE EPITAPH OF THE WERY VERTUOUSE AND EXCELLENT GENTELUOMAN A. C. SISTER
TO ȜE RIGHT HONOLL THE LAIRD OF CAPRINTOUNE.
Thus hath o'rschadoued Phoebus' schyning face?
Art natour's pryde, loue's mirrour, earthis true joyes,
Fled and evanischt in a moment's space?
Ah! art affectioune's florisch, beutie's vigour,
Crop't in the floure, and slain by Clotho's rigour?
In sorowes seas so suddenly gone doune,
Lyk fleing schadoues, and deceauing dreames,
Tomorrou clay, today perfectioune's croune?
Ah! art ye world of hir rair Phoenix spoyld,
And earth's decoirment by death's furie soyld?
This age wnworthy such a braue ingyne;
And chaing't this mortal's mutable estait
For ay in immortality to schyne.
Thus sche, to quhom belou na mache's giuin,
Triumphs in endles glorie, mached in heauin.
Fred of all chainge and to na frailtie thrall,
The tomb thryse happie, qch thy corps incloises,
So happie ay, bot happiest nou of all,
That, as ye world did learne to liue by the,
Sua, by thy death, ye world may learne to die.
Wt weiping eyes this spectacle to vieu.
Heauins did afford, and now ȝe heauins denyes
This staige of toyes sould more retein thair due.
Since all must die, thē let no mortall froune,
Thot hyer powers do reclaime thair owin.
XVI. SAX LYNES WPON THE FALL OF SOMERSAIT.
Each man wt silence stopes his mouth, and hearesSad newes wt wonder, bot my barren muse
Fain wold brust foorth, bot ȝit to wryt forbear[s];
Feir to offend must be my best excuise.
Since malice thrists for braue Ephestion's blood,
I'le wryt no Ill, nor dar I wryt no good.
XVII. EPITAPH OF THE WERY EXCELLENT, VERTUOUSE AND TRULIE HONOURED LADY, THE LADY ARNESTOUN.
Here, here a sadder subject thou doth fynd.
Hence Helicon, hence Phoebus blooming bayes,
The sorowing Cypres now thy brows must bynd,
Ane Tragick Tokin of a mourning mynd,
Quhich fain wold wtter, (if it could for smairt,)
Thir latest dutyes of a dulefull hert.
Qt flintie hert from sorow can refrain?
Qt ruthles care, this tragedy qch heares,
Can inward anguish smother and restrain?
O! sence wnsensible qch feeles no pain,
And, pittiles, doth not wt greif regrait
This ruefull object and wntymely fait.
By conquering hir in qm those all remain'd.
Nane humbler, meiker, modester, more graue,
Mor wyse, more worthy, natour ewer framed.
Few matches earth hath any quhair retain'd
So prudent, patient, pittifull, but pryde.
More courtesse, comelie creator newer dyed.
This age wnworthy such a rair ingyne,
And chang't this mortal's mutable estate,
For ay in im̄ortality to schyne;
Quho glorefied amidst the schads dewyne,
In place of wordlie transitorie toyes
Reaps now all plentie of Celestiall joyes.
Finis,
XVIII. VPON THE DEATH OF THE RICHT WORSCHIPFULL, VERTEOUSE AND WERY WORTHY GENTLEMAN, THE LAIRD OF ARNESTON ȜOUNGAR
In robs most rich a richer spreit attyrd;
In quhom true vertue, worth and valour schynd;
In face a Venus, and a Mars in mynd.
Too sone, (alace!) in blossome of thyn age
Thy pairt is acted on this wordlie stage.
Quhose ghost triumphes in azor-volted skyes!
Lou'd qll thou liu'd, of all, all now regrait
In ȝouthes Apryle thy far vntymelie fait.
Bot ah! no eyes can render store of teares
To mourne aneugh thy losse in such ȝoung ȝeares.
Heawins have reclaimed bot qt to thame was due.
Ane Angel's place far better doth beseame the,
For this inferiour fram could no conteane the.
For quhy, (braue ȝouth,) basse earth was far wnfitt
To comprehend such beutie, grace, and wit.
XIX. [MUST I WNPITTIED STILL REMAIN].
But regaird,
Or rewaird,
Nothing caird,
Bot by my sueitest slain?
Still, alace!
Begging grace,
Bot in place
Of favor reap disdain?
I must no retreat,
Altho thou froun a quhyle.
Since my pain proceeds of the,
All is sueit it breeds to me,
If thou wouchaife bot on smyle.
XX. TO THE MOST HOPEFUL AND HIGH-BORN PRINCE CHARLES, PRINCE OF WALES.
In former tymes to thy Great Syre hath sung,
And often ravischt his harmonious ear
Wt straynes fitt only for a prince to heir.
Saue from Montgomery sche hir birth doth clayme,
(Altho his Phoenix ashes have sent forth
Pan for Apollo, if compaird in worth),
Pretending tytyls to supply his place
By ryt hereditar to serve thy grace.
Tho the puir issues of my weak ingyne
Can add smal luster to thy gloryes schyne,
Qch, (lyk the boundles oceā), swels no moir,
Tho springs and founts infuis thair liquid stoir;
And tho the guift be mean I may bestow,
Ȝit, (gratiows prince,) my myt to thee I owe,
Qch I wt ȝeale present. O daigne to vieu
Those airtles measurs, to thee only due;
Iff, (but offence,) Great Charles, Ile sing thyne owne.
XXI. THE KINGS MAIESTIE CAME TO HAMILTON ON MONDAY THE XXVIII IULY
Paint furth the passions of thy new-borne joy:
Forbear to sing thy lovelie layes a space;
Leave wanton Venus and her blinded boy.
Raise vp thy voice and now, deare Muse, proclaime
A greater subject and a graver theame.
In pompe and pow'r, busked with golden rayes,
More brigt heir shyning on our hemispheare,
Nor that great planet, father of the dayes;
With boldnes offer at his sacred shryne
These firstlings of thy weake and poore ingyne.
By heavens exalted to so high a place,
Both crown'd with gold and never fading bayes.
Who keps three kingdoms in so still a peace,
Whose love, cair, wisdome, grace & high deserts
Have maid thee Monarch of thy subjects' harts.
Mak Europ thrall and over Asia reigne,
Yet at thy feet despysed, Bellona lyes:
No crownes thou craves which bloodie conqueis staine.
Not to bee great thou stryves, bot to bee good.
Hart-rooted rancor, envy borne in hell
Did long in long antipathie detaine
To eithers ruine, as they both can tell.
Uniting them thou hast enlarged thy throne,
And maid devyded Albion all bee one.
From bloodie broyles, from battells and debait,
From mischeifs, cruelties and sad revenge
To love and peace thou hes transformd our stait,
Which now confirmed, by thee before begunne,
Shall last till earth is circuit with the Sunne.
Earth's glorie, Europ's wonder, Britann's pryde,
Thy wit (lyk heaven) in such a divyne measure
This litle world so happilie doth guyd,
That Caesar, Trajan, Pompey, Alexander,
If now they liv'd, the place to thee might rander.
Or what is in thee not of highest pryce?
A liberall hand, a most magnifick hart,
A readie judgment, and a prompt advyse,
A mynd onconquered, fearcest foes to thrall,
Bright eye of knowledge: singular in all.
The Church, the laye, each high or low estaite
Long-since by many worthie deeds did prove;
Bot most of all by these effects of laite.
For thou affects amongst thy high designs
To build the Sanctuarie of the King of Kings.
Thy Royall person from the cradle keap'd
From thousand plots t'eclips thy Sunne, prepair'd
By these who horror vpon horror heap'd
Their barbarous hands into thy blood to bathe
And mak thee (guiltles) object of their wrathe.
Yet heavens made Josua over them prevaill:
Thogh hellish harts envyd'd thy glories shyne,
Yet in the practise their attempts did faill.
But loe, thy mercie still to be admir'd!
Thou spared them against thee who conspyr'd.
To thee all kings in clemencie give place.
Thryce happie people rul'd by such a one,
Whose lyfe both this and after-tymes shall grace:
Long may thy subjects, are thy glasse outrunne,
Enjoy the light of thee, their glorious Sunne.
To draw thee home-ward to these northerne parts?
Whill Mars the world affrights with trumpets hoarse,
Broyls inhumaine devyding humane harts;
Whill Belgium braine-sick is, France mother sick,
And with Iberian fyres the Alpes doe reik.
Was to thee given, thy love to represent,
Which in the Ocean thogh she doe grow great,
And many foraine floods and shelves frequēt;
Yet not vnmyndfull of her native Burnes,
Thogh with great toyle, vnto them back returnes.
Now deck thyselfe into thy best attyre:
And lyk a bryd advance thy chearfull head;
Enjoy with surfet now thy soules desyre;
Uncessantlie with sights importune heaven
That thou may long enjoy this gift new given.
A thousand tymes this soyle doth thee salute;
Welcome, O welcome, Britann's greatest pryde,
By thee which happie doth it selfe repute.
Thogh all-where welcome; yet most welcome heir;
Long haunt thir bounds, ere thou from hence retire.
Which in a flowrie labyrinth her playes,
Heir blooming banks, heir silver brooks doe slyd,
Heir Mearle and Mavis sing melodious layes,
Heir heards of Deer defy the fleetest hounds;
Heir wods and vails and echoes that resounds.
That noble race, which famous by thy blood,
Long toyle and trouble glaidlie did embrace,
And wounded oft gusht furth a crimson flood,
In hazards great defending with renowne
The liberties and glorie of thy Crowne.
With airie accents, hoarse and homelie songs,
My solitarie Muse her selfe reteirs,
Un-usd abroad to haunt such pompous throngs.
Sua renders place that after emptie words
Thou may partack such as this soyle affords.
SONNETS
I. [TO MARGAREIT.]
More chest then fair Diana, first in place,From quhose fair eyes floues loue's alluiring springis;
Secund to none in bonty, beutie, grace,
Quhoise heavinly hands holds proud Cupidois stingis;
Endles repoirt, wpon aspyring wingis,
Thy hie, heroick verteues hath stoired.
Admir'd, but maik, euin in a thowsand thingis,
To eternize ye fame hath endeuoired.
Miraculous, machles Margareit, decoired
With all preferments natour can afford!
Favourd from heauins aboue, in earth adoir'd,
Extold by treuth of thy most loyall word,
With vertue grac'd far more yen forme of face,
Ȝit Venus in ye same doth ȝeild ye place.
II. [TO THE SAME.]
[Mairgrait then I can any wayes deserue]
Mairgrait then I can any wayes deserue,Mair rair then fair, ȝit machles in ye same.
Quho with thy eyes, (least my puir lyfe sould sterue),
Wouchaiffes to look wt pitty on my paine.
Heir I avou thyne ewer to remaine,
To serwe ye still, till breath and lyfe depairt,
Reviu'd by vertue of thy sacred name.
Cum death or lyfe, in loue I find no smairt.
Let Cupid wreck him on my martyred hert;
Let fortoune froune, and all ye world invy;
Gif I be thyne, no greiff can death impairt
Sall mak me seime thy service to deny.
I liue mair weil contented thyne to die
Then cround wt honour, and disdain'd by the.
III. [TO THE SAME.]
[Can any crosse, sall ewer intervein]
Can any crosse, sall ewer interveinMak me to chaunge my neuer chaunging mynd?
Can oght, yat my puir eyes hath ewer seine,
Mak me to hir quho holds my lyfe wnkynd?
O no! euin thot ye worldis beutie schyn'd,
To try my treuth and temp my loyall loue,
I more esteime for hir to liue still pynd,
Then any other be preferd aboue.
My constant hert no tortour sall remoue,
Thoght duilfull death and frouning fortoune threat.
No greif at all, no paine that I can proue,
Sall mack me ewer loath of my estait.
I glaidly ȝeild me; let hir saue or kill,
I heat to liue except it be hir will.
IV. [TO THE SAME.]
[Alace! (sueit love,) yat ewer my puir eyes]
Alace! (sueit love,) yat ewer my puir eyesPresum'd to gaize on yat most heauinly face.
Alace! yat fortoune ewer seimd to ease
My endles woes, but now wold me deface.
Alace! yat ewer I expected grace,
To snair myselfe in hope to be reliued.
Alace! Alace! that loue wold now disgrace
My loyall hert, qch once to serwe him liued.
Alace! Alace! yat ewer I surviued
Ye fatall tyme, quhen first appeir'd my joy:
For now, alace! I die: bot ȝit reviued,
In hope thy love my luck sall once injoy.
Still to remaine, resolued then sall I liue,
Thy humblest servant, ewin till breath me liue.
V. [TO THE SAME.]
[Lyk as Actaeon fand the fatall boundis]
Lyk as Actaeon fand the fatall boundisQr as Diana baithed hir by a well,
Quhich hie attempt, punisch'd by his awin hounds,
Turn'd in ane timorouse hert, he fled, bot fell.
Sua, qll my Cynthia, quho doth hir excell,
I did behold, cruell Cupid invyed,
And myne awin eyes to crosse me did compell,
Still gaizing on ye goddesse they espyed.
At liberty befoir, alace! now tyed,
I live expecting my Dianais doome;
Ather to be prefer'd, or die denyed,
Wnworthy of ye honour to presume.
Ȝit thot I die, (for sua I ewer doe,)
Had I mo lyfes, tham sould I hazart too.
VI. [TO THE SAME.]
[Since fame's schril trumpet equal'd wt the skyes]
Since fame's schril trumpet equal'd wt the skyesThe rair perfectiounes and miraculous art,
Natour and educatioun did impairt
To mak the wondrouse to amazed eyes,
Thy beutyes did my sensses suire suppryse,
Or eir thy sight my ravischt eyes did blesse.
Bot now I fynd Fame too, too niggard is,
Or thy deserts above hir reach aryse.
All loue, all joy, all sueitnes, all delight,
The heawins into thoise angel's eyes haue plac'd.
Thryse happie he quho may the rosis taist,
And pull the lilies of those cheeks so quhyt.
But those fayre brests' rype clusters quho myt presse
Wt Jove may weel compair in happines.
VII. [TO THE SAME.]
[Adieu! my loue, my lyfe, my blesse, my beeing]
Adieu! my loue, my lyfe, my blesse, my beeing,My hope, my hape, my joy, my all, adieu!
Adieu! sueit subject of my pleasant dying,
And most delichtfull object of my view.
Bright spark of beutie, paragon'd by few;
Wnspotted pearle, qch doth thy sex adorne;
Loadstar of loue, quhose puir vermilion hew
Makes pale the rose & stains the blushing morne;
That zeale to the qch I haue ewer borne,
Sole essence, lyfe and vigour of my spreit,
By tract of tyme sall newer be out worne;
My secund self, my charming syren sueit.
And so, my Phoenix & my turtle true,
A thousand, thousand tymes adieu! adieu!
VIII. [TO THE SAME.]
[Some gallant spreits desyrouse of renowne]
Some gallant spreits desyrouse of renowne,To climb wt pain Parnassus do aspyre.
By Natour some do weir ye Lawrell croun,
And some the poet proues for hoip of hyre.
Bot none of those my spirits doth inspyre,
My muse is more admird then all the nyne,
Quho doth infuse my breast wt sacred fyre
To paint hir foorth most heavinly and dewyne.
Hir worth I raise in Elegiak lyne;
In Lyricks sueit hir beuties I extoll;
The brave Heroik doth hir rair ingyne
In tyme's im̄ortal register enroll:
Since thou of me hath maid thy poet, then
Be bold, (sueit Lady), to imploy my pen.
IX. [THE POWER OF BEAUTY.]
In bewty, (loue's sueit object), ravischt sightDoth some peculiar perfectioun pryse,
In which most worth & admiration lyes,
The sensses charming with most deir delight.
Some eyes adoir, lyk stars, cleir glistering bright;
Some, wrapt in blak, those comets most entyse;
Some ar transported wt pureayn dyes,
And some most value greene about ye light.
Awrora's flam̄ing hayre some fondly love.
Quhyt dangling tresses, yallow curls of gold,
Wthers in greatest estimation hold.
All eyes alyk, each bewty doth me move;
Eyes lovely broun, broun chastnut color'd hayre
Enflame my hart, and sensses all ensnair.
X. [ON A VILE PRIEST.]
Faith, now, & wryt all falsifyed ar foundBy one, quho must be faithles, fals, perjur'd;
Quhose othe & promeis ar a slidrie ground
To build wpon, to make a man assuird.
My modest muse must keip his name obscur'd;
His epithets do sound the same a-loud.
A drunkin divin, by the devil obdurd,
A preacher, oh! a persecuter proud,
To Bacchus great, quhose knees ar oftest boud.
Devoirs tabacco, Cupid's plagues to quenche;
Quhose paralytik lips and tounge vntrou'd
Hath oft intrappit many a wanton wench;
This Priest, or beist, doth weir a fylthy fame,
A blotted conscience, and a spotted name.
XI. [THE SAME.]
[Name spotted, fame defyld, saule fraucht wt sin]
Name spotted, fame defyld, saule fraucht wt sin,Too long in such a carioun vyle inclois'd;
Presumptuous, puir, aspyring for a pin,
Adulterous, double, deuilischly disposit,
A sensual slaue, quho sence of schame hath loosit;
False, flatt'ring, fickle, and defamed for ay,
Quhose doating and deceat ar oft discloisd;
Earth's excrement, heavin's hatred, Plutoes pray,
A parlage cur, a brokin staffe for stay;
A Turk but treuth, a Pagane for a preist,
Quho, for his faults, sall render count one day,
Qll wormes wpon his filthy fleche do feast.
Sua, till the feinds this fyre brand fetch, I . . .
Wt such a subject loath to stain my . . .
XII. [THE SAME.]
[Puir, perjurd palliard, plaged wt the parls]
Puir, perjurd palliard, plaged wt the parls,By quick repentance heavin's just wrath prevēts,
Of paine to come the gallouse is but arles,
Qlk for the gaips, and laiks but ones consent.
Thy epitaph sall then be putt in prent,
To blaize abroad how leudlie thou hath liued;
Religioun's foe, against thy brethren bent,
Quho one and all, (and not but cause), ar greeued
------the rape hath not thy lyfe berewed.
------thy calling, to the churche a curse
------thou thy birth had not survived
------no conscience for to fill thy purse.
Adieu till death; to die a slauchterd oxe
How punisht wt the palsie & the poxe.
DIDO AND ÆNEAS
TO THE READER.
SONET.
Ȝow Heliconian witts, with arte who vieweThe pain-borne brood of heaven-enspired spreits;
ȝowr presence, humbly, (loe), my muse invites,
To taist of her fore-rypened fruits a few.
Though meane and small desert for such be dew,
Her strenthles pinneouns and vnhardned plume,
As ȝit in blood, no hyer dar presume,
Till ryper ȝeirs her infancy subdue.
Accept what she doth painfully impairt
With toyle and travell to begyle the time;
And let, in her minority and prime,
Her tender age excuse her slender airt;
Not darring things of importance to write,
With humble ȝeale, (loe), she presents her mite.
DIDO AND AENEAS.
THE FIRST BOOK.
Of dying Troy he takes his last farewell;
Queen Didoe's love, and cruell Junoe's ire
With equall fervor which he both doth feell.
Path'd wayes I trace, as Theseus in his neid,
Conducted by a loyall virgin's threid.
(To twyse two lustres scarce of ȝeirs attained),
Such task to treat (vnwisely bold), doth choose,
As thy sweit voyce hath earst divinly strained.
And in grave numbers of bewitching verse
Ravisht with wonder all the vniverse.
Thy divine discant, and harmonious layes,
Whose sugg'red accords, (which thy worth do blaze),
The hearers' senses, at thair ears betrayes.
O then I stowp as one in airt too shallow
Thy never matched monarch muse to follow.
Those paths to trace which ȝeilds ane endles name,
By the, to climb Parnassus I aspyre,
And by thy feathers to impen my fame:
Nothing asham'd thir colours to display,
Vnder thy conduct as my first assay.
Which by thy gloriows rayes reflexe doth shyne,
That I, partaking of thy purest spright,
May grave (anew) on tyme's immortall shryne,
In homely stile, those sweit deliciows ayrs
In which thy Muse admirable appears.
Which haunt Parnassus and the Pegas spring,
Infuse ȝour furie in my weak ingyne,
That (mask'd with Maro) sweetly I may sing,
And warble foorth this Hero's changing state,
Eliza's love, and last, her tragick fate.
Attendit still with discorde, death, dispair;
The child of wrath, nurst by despightfull hait,
With visage pale, sterne lookes, and snaiky hair),
By Groecian armes, old Troy had beatne downe,
And rais'd the ten-ȝeirs siege from Priam's towne.
And staitly turrets levell'd with the ground;
Insulting Greeks, with fire and sword, did thunder,
And both alike the sone and syre confound,
The maid and matron, striving to compence
Fair Helen's rapt, and Paris' prowd offence.
The noble prince Æneas re-units
His scattered forces, dissipate of laite
By Graecian furie on Troy's bloody streets,
And sweetly chearing their dejected hearts,
By sugg'red words he stryves to ease their smarts.
And thowsand dangers have with me eschewed,
Courage and comfort let my words afford
To ȝow, though now by sad mischaunce subdued.
Blind Fortune favoures oft th'ignoble parte,
But he is free keeps ane vnconquered heart.
Vertue oppressed brighter still doth blaze.
Let wonted valour, by ȝowr worthy deids,
Reconquere credit, and the world amaze;
That ritch with spoiles and praise, ȝowr prowes hie
May be renoun'd with fame and victorie.
And let ȝowr valour be by vertue back't.
The golden sunne-shyn of her count'nance cleir
On vs againe may shyne, though Troy be sack't.
Palmes, whil prest downe, ar loathest to give place,
And Phaebus lowest showes her broadest face.
And conquer'd kingdomes small content can ȝeild;
Since honour seldome is acquir'd by rest,
But wonne by awfull armes in open field:
Let vs a navie then prepair with speid
With wings displayed the seas to overspreid.
Hiest attempts ar worthiest of renowne.
And who do most death's bitter stroake despise,
Fortune doth such with glory soonest crowne.
Let vs resolve to suffer all assayes,
To purchase fame, or perish all with prayse.”
Their troubles calm'd: his speaches so prevaill.
Their hearts of sorrow's heavie load relieved,
Off suddaine joy strange passiouns do assail;
All cry alowd: “Quhair ever thow dost leid,
We follow the, owr prince, owr guide, owr heid.”
With sayles display'd, to turne their backs on Troy.
Now many a gailley, brigandine, and barge
Rid ov'r the roaring billowes; whil with joy
The Trojane fleet in armes to seas ar gone.
Great Neptune with the burthene greiv'd doth grone.
And ways vnknowen search out, twixt foame and flood.
Now scarce the soyle, with bleeding hearts, they spy,
Quhair Troy, (Rome's stately rival whilome), stood;
Whose ruines poore, which low in ashes lye,
Doth force a teare from every gaizing eye.
Which doth their eyes of native land deprive,
Thence through the Ocean speedily they poast,
Till now in sight of Delos they arrive.
The Ile no sooner to their eyes appear'd,
Till thither Palinure their pilote steir'd.
Of things to come the ȝit-vnknowne event;
And did in dowbtsome oracles vnfold
Hid mysteries the curiows to content:
Where now arriv'd their prince setts foot on land,
His fortunes of the God to vnderstand.
Divine Apollo, the distrest estate
Of Troy's poor remnant, servants all of thine;
Brought lowe by Graecian furie, and by fate.
Show to quhat soyle owr cowrse sall be addrest,
Which after toyle in end, may ȝeild vs rest.”
The God replyed, “Jove doth for the provide!
Thy trophe's sall, (by after-ages sung),
In times immortall register abide.
Spread foorth thy sayles, to Italy repair;
Thow and thy race sall swey the scepter thair.”
And smoothly through the silver waves do slide.
A gentle gale sweet Zephyrus bestowes,
Which streight their cowrse to Italy doth guide.
The azure face of heaven's broad looking-glasse
With cannowse wings they quickly overpasse.
Frome sight of shoare, and viewe of neirest land,
Quhen angrie Juno, frome the christall skyes,
Vpon ye seas the Trojane navie fand.
Her deadly hatred and deep-rooted ire
Inflams her minde, and sets her all on fire.
Commoved the Goddes, who in furie fryes?
Showe thow the source of her vindictive wrath:
Why she this Prince so singulare envyes,
Him tosses to and fro, deprives of rest?
Are heavinly mindes with such despight possest?
Out of her ashes should a Phoenix raise,
A natioune fierce, who Carthage should destroy,
Her stately towres ov'rturne, and city raise;
A martiall people far and neir to reigne,
In warre invincible, so the Fates ordaine;
Her native soyle at Samos Ile she leaves;
Throughout the streets her hurling chariots roll;
Her armes heir places, and great honors gives:
And heir she mindes, (if Fates do not withstand),
To found ane empire shall the world command.
And Ganimedes rapt vpbraides her minde;
And how her beauty Paris did despise
The golden fruit to Venus who assign'd;
Which most her heart with malice doth incense,
No mends can expiat this hie offence.
As never female heart could ȝit forgive.
Beauty can not abide to beir a stayne,
And with a rivall doth abhorre to live.
Quhat can so loathsome be a woman told,
As say she lookes deformed, fowl, or old?
Nor furyowse minde with sugg'red words be meased.
As Hyrcane tigers, greedy of revenge,
Bellona[s] fury far easier is appeased.
For one man's caws no Trojane finds a shield.
Who may resist whil heavinly broode doth ȝeild?
Those creatures sweit of cruelty to taxe?
Who now-adayes do prove so kinde to men,
Apt for impression as the ȝeilding waxe.
Of this sweit sexe my muse doth pardon crave,
Which thus misledde with Juno's rage did rave.
Whil smyling Nereus with cups is crown'd;
And mariners, glaid of the prosperows gaile,
Their chearful whisles meryly do sownd.
Enraged Juno, full of discontent,
Thus doth apairt by words her passion vent:
And sall the Trojanes save arive on shoare
Maugre my will? Have Fat's ordain'd it so?
Of such a conquest justly [lose the] gloir?
By Pallas earst for Ajax caws alone
The Graecian fleet was sunk and overthro'ne.
Thunder and fireflaught, to avenge her ire.
Waves threat the skies, a fearfull tempest blew,
The rageing seas against the Greeks conspire.
Himself, with fire transfixt, against a rock
She dasht with whirlwind, quhair his corps did smoake.
Jove's spowse, and sister, heaven's arch-empresse great,
With one poore nation never ȝit at peace!
What do availl my dignity, my state?
Who Juno's godhead, thus contemn'd, sall feare?
Or who sall offrings on my altar reare?”
The Goddes at Æolia doth arive;
A land where tempests dwell, stormes have their being;
In caves inclos'd, where murm'ring winds do strive.
But Æolus, their king, with mace in hand,
Theire rage restrains, and fury doth withstand.
Lowd bellowing all break out, with blust'ring noyse;
But he in chaines more stoutly them confining,
Tempers their ire, and calmes their roaring voyce;
For if they were vnbridled and vnbound,
Heavens, earth, and seas they should anone confound.
In caverns dark, fast bound with brazen bands:
With hills supprest them, and a prince imposed
To let or loose their rains, as he commands;
To whom these speeches Juno fierce directed,
With gesture sad, and ey's on ground dejected:
The storms arise, and swelling seas give place;
My mortall foes, new scaip't the Graecian sword,
The Trojans crosse the seas to my disgrace.
Let louse the winds, thy rav'nows postes imploy,
Disperse their navie, and themselves destroy!
Fair Diopeia sall be thy rewarde;
Who, all her lyf in thy subjection dwelling,
The as her lord and husband sall regarde;
With the who many happy dayes sall have,
And mak the parent of a bairne-tyme brave.”
“Are spent in vaine, thy servand to entraite.
My self, my scepter, and in me what lyes,
Boldly command to execute thy haite.
Jov's love by the I find, by the I reigne,
By thee the stormes I raise, and tempests straine.”
With silver scepter open passage made;
The winds owt gushing heavens and earth do fill
With hiddeows noyse, none in the cave abaide:
They roar, they rush, and with a murmuring sownd,
The elements all threatne to confound.
'Gainst East and West are Sowth and North opposed.
Waves climb the clouds, a deadly tempest blew;
Gray Proteus' flocks through foamie floods ar tossed,
Which present death to sailing Trojans threatne.
Men cry, and caibles crack by Boreas beatne.
Ane hoste of clouds did overcast the skies;
Ane mist obscure did light of day displace,
And load starre rest frome woefull sailers eyes.
With lightning flashes thund'ring heavens gave light;
Each where pale death vpbraids the Trojanes sight.
With hands heav'd vp first having heavens implor'd:
“Thrise happy ȝe, my mates!” sore sighing say'd,
“In Troyes defence who died by Graecian sword.
O Diomedes, would to God that I,
Kill'd by thy martiall hand, at Troy did ly!
And stowt Sarpedon both their breathes did ȝeild;
Whose live-lesse bodyes Simois' floods did bear
With bloody armes and many a woundit sheild.”
Thus whil apairt he speiks, a contrare blast
Doth force his saile against the trembling mast.
Her ribbes do roare, her tacklings all are torne;
The tumbling billowes fast her syddes assaill,
She sinking sippes the seas, by weight downe borne.
The fleet disperst, some to the heavins are throwne,
To some the bottomes of the seas are showne.
Each to some speciall office him betaks:
Some sailes pull in, others the oares imploy,
Some the maine bouling hale, some tacklings slacks;
Some hold the helme, some caibles cut in twaine,
Some at the pumpe powr seas in seas againe.
In shallow shelves some vnawares ar cast;
Some 'gainst a rock are violently drivin;
And some in Syrtes sinking sands are fast;
Some, (being robb't of ruther, mast and oares),
With gaiping mowth the whirling poole devores.
Their leiking seames drink in the floods so fast,
Whil Neptune wond'ring by what charge vnknowne
The swelling seas their limits have ov'rpast;
By what strange pow'r they have ov'rflow'd the plains,
And who, (by his command), hath loos'd the raines.
Above the waters, toss'd by Juno's wraith.
The Trojane fleet soone to his eyes appeares,
Some drown'd, some dying, some scarce drawing breath;
Whome pittying, in the twinkling of ane eye
The storme he stills, and calm's the rageing sea.
A heidles multitude misledde by rage,
Do fight confus'd; furie doth furnish armes;
No meanes can their ignoble ire asswage.
But if some man of eminence appeare,
They quit their strife, and to his words give eare.
Till bello'ing Boreas calmes his roaring voyce.
The striving stream's are suddenly at peace,
And rageing tempests still their blust'ring noyse.
With trumpets hoarse the Trytons sownd retrait.
Waves war no more against the scattered fleet.
With many a sea-nymph Neptun's cowrt frequenting;
Who free the shipp's frome shoalds and sinking sands,
To Trojan's pittyfull themselves presenting.
The storme allay'd, they saiff away do slide.
On smooth-fac'd seas the God by coatch doth ride.
Discerne afarre the long-long wissed land;
And thither plying, on the coasts do light
Of Africk, where Queen Dido bears command.
Frome Italy, a contrare cowrse, which driven,
Of all the sailes none find the porte but seven.
Left Tython's bed, and glaid good-morrow gave
To Phaebus, blushing red, with golden hair,
Ariseing from the Orientall wave:
Wher Æneas early go's abroad,
And leaves the shipp's at anchore in the roade.
Longing to learne what people thair do stay;
Achates only he his convoy makes,
Swa journey taks where fortune guides the way,
By paths vnknow'n, perplexed much in minde,
They travell long, but people none can finde.
Most like a Spartan maid in armes and weed;
The gesture of Harpalice she bears,
To whom the light-foote horse gives place in speed.
Owt runnes swift running Heber's rav'nows streames;
With bowe on shoulder she ane huntres seames.
Was toss'd by sweet-breath'd Zephyr heir and thair;
Her rayment short, her lovely knees wer bair,
With which no snowe in whitnes might compair.
Her eyes shin'd favour, courtessie, and grace,
No mortall ever saw more sweet a face.
And showe me if by chance ȝe have espied
Heir any of my sister nymphs at sporte,
With bowe in hand, and quaver by their syd,
The footsteps of a foamie boare who trace,
And hallo'ing lowd, fast follow on the chace.”
Or sall we rather the a Goddes call?
Such heavenly beautys on thy face do shine,
Thy gloriows rayes owr mortall eyes appal;
But O! thrice happy Goddes, nymph or maid,
Quhat e're thow art, we humbly crave thine aid.
What fields so fair heir to owr sight are showen,
Vnder what climat of the heaven we range,
Where neither man nor place to vs are knowne.
We crave” (sweit lady), “if a stile so lowe
Beseeme thy state, this let thy servants knowe.”
For this the fashion is for virgins heir
A bowe and quaver by their thighs to beare,
And rayment short above their knee to weir.
Of fertile Africk heir the soile ȝe see,
And those the walls of famows Carthage be.
For horror of Pigmalion's cruell crime,
Against her mate in privy perpetrate,
Which sad discowrse requirs a longer time.
But things of greatest moment to discover,
All circumstance I breefly sall runne over.
With many gifts of minde and body graced,
Who her espous'd into her virgin state,
A spotless maid, ȝoung, beautyfull, and chaste.
Her bloody brother over Tyrus raigned:
No fiercer monster on the earth remained.
Him vnawars before the altars slew,
And forg't inventiounes to his sister told,
Cloaking his cruelty with airts anew.
But murther, though it ly a space conceal'd,
By meanes vnlook't for, ay at last's reveal'd.
Before this wofull lady's sleeping eyes,
With visage wan, pale looks, and deidly hew,
Whom, fearfull lyk, she trembling fast espyes,
With gapeing wound, from whence a crimson flood
Ran gushing downe his breast, begor'd with blood.
Expect no better at thy brother's hands,
Flie him who kill'd thy husband but offence,
And cruelly dissolv'd owr nuptiall bands;
Whose cursed weapon Hymen's solemne knote
Disjoin'd, which joined was so long by lote.
Her fainting hands three times stretcht owt in vaine
The shadow to embrace; but sadly sight
When nought but air her folded armes containe.
Three times againe, thus in her sleep misse-led
Three times his ghost her kinde embraces fled.
Prepares for flight, conveining such as hate
This monster, who with fear the scepter swayes,
And tyrannizing reignes with terrour greate.
Whom spoiling, hence they fled with wealth vntold;
Their shipps they ballast with the traitouoris gold.
Of stately Carthage, reaching to the skies.
The soile she bought, along the coast which lies,
Within the reach and compasse of ȝowr eyes:
First Byrsa call'd, as much in length and breid
As she could with an oxen hide ov'rspreid.
Whose ruethfull looks ȝowr inward sorrows showe?
Frome what far coast have ȝe ȝowr journey had?
Or whither further purpose ȝe to go?”
To which, with wounded heart and watrie eyes,
Sore sighing, thus the sea-toss'd prince replies:
And of owr bitter sorrows showe the source;
Owr adverse fortune and estrang't estate
Requires a longsome dolorows discowrse:
Day should departe and Phoebus bright descend,
Long ere owr wofull tragedy should end.
(If ever Troy into thine ears fand place),
By wind and wave heir toss'd we are with toile,
Of heavenly issue and immortall race.
Frome Jove I sprang; brought lowe, before thine eyes
Æneas stands, whose fame surmounts the skyes.
My cowrse: I follow'd where the Fates did guide;
With twentie sailes, (alas!) I left the porte,
Of which scarce seven saiff frome the stormes abide.
Myself in neid heir strayes, to all vnknowne,
Far, far from Europ, and frome Asia throwne.”
“Brave Trojane, be encourag'd,” Venus sayes;
“Raise vp thine heart, such sad complaints forbear,
Heavens guide thy footsteps and direct thy wayes.
Hold on to Carthage, where Quein Dido reignes;
Thy shipps ar save; thy mates alive remaines.
Doung by ane eagle in the skies of late,
For joy of perill past all mounting hye,
With wanton wings the ȝielding air they beat:
Even so thy shipps, long toss'd on seas, in end
With mirth and noyse all to the porte intend.”
Which made a sunne-shine in the shady place,
With rosie cheeks and cheirfull smiling face,
Such as Adonis earst she did embrace,
Her sweet ambrosiall breath and nect'red hair,
With musk and amber did perfume the air.
“Ah! mother, stay thy cowrse;” sore sighing sayes,
“Why, masked thus, dost thow delude my sight?
Pitty thy childe, heir comfortles who stayes.”
Ne're word she spak, but as they walk't in dowbt,
She with a cloud encompast them abowt.
In solide substance did the self congeale,
With wonder rapt, environing the two,
Themselves with mists enfolded thus to feel,
To whome alone the cloud transparent bright,
With thick'ned damps debarr'd all others sight.
Hold foreward, where the Goddes them commands.
She to her soile, by skies, to Paphos flyes,
Wher consecrate to her a temple stands,
Whose altars, which in odowrs sweet excell,
With cassia, myrrhe, and cynamome do smell.
From which the towne lies subject to their sight;
The stately work with walls to skies ascending,
The pompows ports with gold all glist'ring bright,
The towres, on Porphyr pillars which arise,
And mabre streets feed with delight their eyes.
Some dig the earth and search a solide ground;
Some found below, some build amidst the skie;
With noyse of hammers hollow heavens resownd.
Some stones do roll; some vnder burthens grone;
Some grave in brasse; some kyth their craft in stone.
With warme reflexe the frosted flowrs revives,
When natur's alchimists from rest reteir,
And to the sluggarde life and courage gives.
Whil some at home, some in the fields abroade,
Their tender thighs with waxe & hony loade;
And ballast thus do contrepoyze the winde;
Some waxen pallaces with paine do reir;
Some search a field the fragrant flowrs to finde;
Some, bussied in the hyve, great murmure mak,
Whil others of the brood the charge do tak.
And empty combs with liquours sweet do fill;
Parte at the ports, as sentinells abide,
Vnloade their mat's and drowsie dron's do kill;
The work doth prosper, Nectar-plenish't cels
With thyme and cammomile most sweetly smels.
On arches rais'd for comedyes ereck;
For judgement some a place prepare more sage,
Establish lawes, and magistrats eleck.
Each with a sev'rall work employ'd tak paine:
None sluethfull in the citty do remaine.
“Whose fortun's floorish, and whose walls arise.”
No longer he vpon the mountaine stayes,
But, ent'ring at the porche, seene by no eyes,
Bereft with wonder he abroad doth range,
Apparell'd with this airy rayment strange.
Of amrows myrtles and immortall bayes,
Which, heavenly sweet, deliciows odowrs threw,
Whil Zephyr breath'd among the palme-trie sprayes,
Whose topps, entwyn'd, a pleasant arbor made,
Which ȝeelded a delightsome cooling shade.
A church with all choyse rarities enriched,
Which, of no humane industry denude,
All eyes with admiratioune bewitched,
Who viewe what arte hath in this work devis'd,
With curiows pencill, cunningly compris'd.
In shapes admir'd her excellence hath showne,
The live-les pictures seeme to see, move, touch,
With wondrows colours by the painter drawne:
The statues stand, wrought with exceeding coste,
By cunning craftsmen carved and embost.
And, with those sights, his sorrowing eyes delighting,
Neir by, abr[i]g'd, he viewes Troyes tragick story,
Drawen with such life as seem'd he saw them fighting:
Great Ilion by triumphing Greeks suppris'd,
Their bloody rage who prowdly exercys'd.
Whilas the ramme the walls is vndermining.
The Trojans val'rowsly resist their force,
In plumed caskes and glitt'ring armour shining.
Now frome the ports the Greeks they seeme to chase,
And now retreating, to the foe give place.
The breathles body of prowd Rhesus lyes.
Heir Troylus, vnable to withstand
Achilles' stroak's, by gloriows conquest dyes.
Heir Priame doth his strenthles hands uphold,
Sueing to ransome Hector's corps with gold.
Acting his parte vpon this bloody stage,
In Graecian blood his blaid who oft embrues,
Arm'd with trew valowr, not misseledde with rage.
There Memnon, there the souldiers of Aurore,
Distill their dearest blood to conquere glore.
Her Amazonian trowpes to Troye's supplie!
To all her valour admiration breids,
But death and horrour to the enemy.
All other women with their tongues mak warre,
She, by her hands, more famows is be farre.
Now strange Hermaphrodites supplie their place,
Whose cloths, whose cariage, curlings, cutted haire,
Complexiounes, coloures, ar their cheifest grace:
Whose greatest study's foundlings to abuse;
The mystery of painting how to vse.
“Ah, deir Achates!” sighing sore, he said:
“In owr mishapps what nation not delights?
What place doth not owr infamies vpbraid?
Betwix the fyrie and the frozen ȝone
Our sad misfortunes are vnknowne to none.”
So no mis-hap's so hard, but once may end.
Dark night o'rpast, succeedes the pleasant day,
Heavens, after sorrowes, joyes and solace send.
So now, the lustre of Eliza's eyes
Cheirs vp his spreits & calmes his miseryes.
Her milde aspect him with assurance armes;
Her beautyes peace proclaime vnto his feares;
Her gratiows countenance his anguish charmes.
For, loe, as Cynthia 'mongst the stars doth shyne,
She comes attended with a stately tryne.
Arayed in robes of pure blew-golden-green,
Should in this cowrt have look't but pale and sad
Amids the pompows throng which guarde the Queen,
Who might have put a period to the strife
'Twix Juno, Pallas, and lame Vulcan's wife.
More ritch in beautyes, ever ȝit did viewe,
Whose lips of corall, cheeks of yvorie,
Where lillyes sweet & budding roses grew,
The smothest pearle, and ritchest rubies stain'd,
Still kissing and still blushing which remain'd.
Where Venus' babe did bend his Heben bowe,
Of majesty and mildenes seam't the seate,
Whose native white made pale the purest snowe.
Two stars are fixt into this beautyes spheare,
Smile-frowning, stormie-calm, and cloudie-cleare.
Dairt foorth a living death, or deadly wound,
And by allurements strange in snare the sights,
And do beholders' senses quite confound,
Whose silent rhetorick far more perswade
Then all the airts enchaunting Circe hade.
Hath something rare, peculiar, and alone,
Which most the face with forme doth beautyfie,
And leaves impression in a heart of stone.
Some, sweetly smileing, kindle Cupid's fire,
And, blushing, some adde fewell to desire.
Some with the dimples of a vermile cheek;
By wanton looks some leave a lasting care,
And others most do move by seeming meek.
But heir, all beautyes in this object meit:
O miracle of nature thus compleit!
Or Cynthus' tops, with many a nymph attendit,
With deep-mowth'd hounds the fleeing deir disranks;
Some fall, by flight some have their lyves defendit.
The Goddes egerly the chace doth follow,
Cheiring her hounds with a harmoniows hallow.
Both at her sport and heavenly shape amazed.
She joyfully them traines the plains along,
Still more admiring, more on her they gazed.
For loe! she shynes amids this crew more bright
Then clear Aurora, parting frome the night.
A sweit, majestick, and heart-moving creature,
With pompows splendour, far above report,
But airt adorn't, with beautyes choysest feature,
Whose gracefull gesture, whose enchanting eyes,
Æneas' sorrows seam't at once to ease.
Weiring a costly coronet of gold,
The sword of justice to her subjects showne,
The scepter her imperiall hand doth hold;
Where, guarded with a groave of awfull armes,
She sitts secure frome spightfull traitors' harmes.
So much by all for equity renown'd,
Of justice she doth hold the ballance eaven,
And solidly doth lawes and statutes found,
Wherby good subjects easily are rain'd,
The viciows sort by fear and force restrain'd.
Whil suddenly a companie arives
Of souldiers, as it seam't to all vnknowne,
Which preassing, as perplex't, for presence strives:
Sergestus, Antheus and Cloanthus strong,
Were leaders of this vnexspected throng.
New scaipt the furie of the boyst'rows king,
Heir last on shoare, whil otherwise intendit;
Heaven's angry Empresse hindred their designe,
Their ships assailing on the wattrie plaine,
Till Neptune calm'd the swelling seas againe.
In Thetis' bosome whom entomb't he trowed,
Amaz'd he stood, with deep attention trying
If visions false his eyes did overcloud,
If apparitions or chymerœes vaine
Appear'd, illudeing his distempered braine.
Sick with a surffeit of excessive joy,
He long'd himself vnmasked to detect,
That mutuallie they comfort might enjoy;
But, seasouning this passion with feare,
Their sute to Dido first resolves to heare.
And thus the Queen with reverence doth greet:
“Great Princes! we, (poore strangers), do appeale
To thy protection, prostrate at thy feet,
Embold'ned by thy virtewes to draw neare,
And in thy sacred presence to appeare.
Long toss't abroad vpon the troublows seas,
Do humbly crave to rest with the a while;
Let not owr sute thy patience displease;
But, (gratiows Princes!), pitty owr distres,
And over vs thy people's pride repres.
To no such end we did vs heir addresse;
We, being objects of disgrace and toile,
No such prowd thoughts owr conquer'd mindes possesse.
Whil first we did on foamie seas ascend,
To Italy we did owr cowrse intend.
Whil mad with furie, and inflam'd with rage,
Lowd bellowing Boreas prowdly offers force,
And maid owr navie of his pride the stage.
The elements, all intermixt in one,
Owr ships were soone disperst and overthrowne.
By name Æneas, great in armes and fame,
Whom, if the heavens preserve for owr relieff,
Feir no; thy fortoune thow shall never blame,
That we by the ar favor'd for his caws.”
Thus, with a sigh, the Trojane maide a pause.
And sympathie of their distrest estate,
Did her compassion in such sort enforce,
As, sweetly smileing, from her regall seat:
“Cheer vp ȝor mindes, (brave Trojanes),” she replyed;
“Exile base sorrow, be no more dismayed.
As have not heard of great Æneas' name?
Troyes ancient splendour? of her gloryes shine?
With longsome warre how Mars did her inflame?
To vs ȝour vertewes admiration breeds,
Amazed much by ȝowr heroick deeds.
And, with a lib'rall hande, ȝowr wants supplie.
Or, if my kingdome can ȝowr woes relieve,
Welcome! thrise welcome, heir to stay with me!
If Trojanes can submit them to my throne,
Trojane and Tyrian sall to me be one.
With whose renowne the earth's seaven climats rings,
Were heir; if heavens have not him ravish't hence,
But do reserve for some vnknowne designes,
Happy, how happy should Queen Dido bee,
To succour him in his extremitie.”
Which him encompas't, vanisht owt of sight,
And he, deliv'red of his sable shroud,
With sudden wonder, shyn'd into the light,
More lyke a God then any earthly creature,
So perfect he appear'd in every feature.
A piercing look, a sweet majestick face;
The golden treasure of his locks which lye
Adowne his shoulders with celestiall grace,
In heavenly hew excell'd that far sought fleece,
Gain'd with such hazarde by the ȝowth of Greece.
Into her heart great things of him divining;
With admiration all the cowrt espye him,
Vpon his royall brow true vertue shining.
No dame so chaste but, spite of all defences,
Must ȝeeld to love, him viewing with right senses.
The man for whome thow kindly dost enquire;
Thy humblest servant, if a sea-tost wight,
Infolded in misfortune's sad attire,
Can be thought worthy the, (dear Queen), to serve,
Who dost so infin'tly of vs deserve.
By the alone we comfort do enjoy;
Thow only kinde and pittyfull hast proved
To vs, the poore distrest remaine of Troy.
We only by thy gratiows favour breath,
Near ent'red at the frozen gates of death.
Our indigence dost vndeserv'dly aid,
The wofull objects of proud Æol's ire,
Whom heavens each where, by sea, by land, invaide;
The scorne of time, the mirrour of mishap,
Of deepest grieff the most expressive map.
All-vertuouse princes! Africk's gloriows starre!
We straying Pelerins will ne'r assay't,
Thy great deserts exceed owr pow'r so farre.
Jove, dowbtles, Dido duely sall rewarde,
If Jove doth rueth or equity regarde.
To heavenly accords of harmoniows spheares,
Whil Phoebus' steeds abowt the Poles do praunce,
Earth's pond'rows masse whill giant Atlas beares;
Thy fame, praise, glory, and thy partes divine,
Shall last, enrol'd on times immortall shrine.
Thy kindnes no oblivion shall blot owt.”
Thus having said, burnt with affection's flame,
His subjects he embraces all abowt.
Hands join'd in hands, joy hath their hearts transfixed,
Both smiles and teares at once ar intermixed.
Ravish't with wonder of this object strange;
“What fortune heir thy wand'ring steps doth guide?
How coms't thir costs thow solitare dost range?
Art thow that Prince, by progeny divine,
Whom great Anchises gote on beautyes Queen?
Whil wasteing Cyprus with victoriows hand,
To Teucer's aide, who by the dint of sword
Most violently was expell'd the land;
Their first thy fame did sound into mine eare;
Their Troyes distres and ruine I did heare.
But, greiff digested, sweet content redowbles.
Afflicted wights to pitty I am moved,
Not inexpert in woe and saddest troubles.
Rest heir, Æneas, in thir partes a space,
For bloody broiles enjoying blessed peace.”
Her ghuests she guides into a pompows hall,
Then holy-dayes proclaim'd with triumph great,
In honour of th' ensewing festivall:
A Hecatombe is offered, beasts are slaine
To Neptune, ruler of the glassie plaine.
With hangings ritch is sumptuously decor'd;
In midst the tables, on ritch pillars rear'd,
With silver plate are plentifully stor'd.
On which, laboriowsly engraven in gold,
The Princes' royall pedegrie's enrol'd.
Preparing to refresh his fainting sprights,
Ascanius' absence only doth empare
His perfect joyes, enless'ning his delights.
Such was the tender, fatherly respect
Whereby his child he dearly doth affect.
To that sweet Boy, who in the ships doth stay,
The period of owr paines, owr present state,
How calme a night hath still'd owr stormie day.
Be thow a guide vnto his footsteps weake,
That of owr pleasures heir he may partake.
Of all the treasures of demolish't Troy,
Bring with that hopefull childe to vs in haste;
The costly jewells Helen did enjoy,
Her ritch embroid'red robes, the scepter rare,
And crowne, which fair Ilionea bare.
Small pledges of these duetyes to her due.
Whill smoothest words to no effect are spent,
Gifts, (strange perswadeing oratours), subdue,
And force the firmest mindes, do still prevaill,
Whil complements and kindest speaches faill.”
With winged pace: Loe! frome the cristall skies,
The Cyprian Goddes suddenly espyes
Th'event of all; who doth anone devise
That Cupid shall assume the shape and face
Of sweet Ascanius, and supplie his place,
Into her bosome breathing love's infection,
And kindle in her breast a boyling fire,
A quenchles flame of violent affection,
Whose deadly poyson, once infused deep,
May peice and peice through all her arteirs creep.
Of Trojan reliques, in Ascanius' shape,
He may, (vnwarre), the Princes vndermyne,
And craftily her liberty entrape;
So, being once enamor'd on her sone,
May free his danger her suspition.
Attending Venus), “thow my strenth, my stay,
Whose trophes great both heavens and earth do fill,
O'r gods, o'r men, who dost thy scepter swey,
Behold before thy sacred Deity,
Thy mother Venus comes entreating the.
Thy brother, dear Æneas, hath persewed,
Whom, nixt to the, I tender as my life,
My joy, my cheifest care, and neir subdewed
On Neptun's aȝure bosome, to my smarte;
Thow of my woes hast oft made vp a parte.
With sugg'red speaches, much his stay importunes,
And royally her ghuest doth entertaine,
With kinde compassion on his former fortunes.
But what these gloriows guilded sho's portend,
It's hard to constre: O! I fear the end.
How can he draw secure one minute's breath?
Since no where saiff, but by her furie threated,
Heir, at her pleasure, she may plot his death.
No place more oportune, no time more fit,
Such inhumane a murther to commit.
A policie all perill to prevent.
Queen Dido, by thy slights, must be suppris'd;
A secret flame must frome thy forge be sent
To boyle her breast, her minde to fancie move,
Æneas only object of her love.
The lovely boy Ascanius goes to cowrt.
Lay thow aside a space thy shafts, thy wings,
Put on his person, and his princely porte.
A child, thow mayst a childe in shape resemble,
More subtilly with Dido to dissemble.
The nectar of thy balmie lips she seiks,
And whil she clasps the in her armes enchain'd,
Redowbling kisses on thy rosiall cheeks,
Thow privily may in her veines enspire
A pleasing poyson, a deceiving fire.”
An humane shape him instantly investes.
Of sweet Ascanius' shadow he maks choise,
And of his wings himself anone devestes,
Layes downe his bow and arrowes, one by one,
So with Achates to the cowrt is gone.
To Ida wods the Goddes him doth beare,
Where pleasant slumber, rest and sweet repose
Lock't vp his eyes; and Morpheus drawing neire
Seas'd on his senses, in the cooling shade
Which lillyes sweet and budding roses made.
With choisest cowrses and deliciows faire,
Loading the tables with all sortes of meat,
Which ȝielded are on earth or liquid aire,
An hundreth groomes, with diligence and skill,
Giving attendance on the strangers still.
With warbling voice, and yvorie instrument,
The motion, order, cowrse of great and lesse,
Fires fixt and straying, in the firmament;
How Phoebus eyther hemi-spheare enflames,
And how his thunders Jove, and lightnings frames.
How stars' aspects benigne or froward bee;
How Iris bends her bowe amids the aire;
How rolling spheares resound harmoniowsly:
Lo! suddenly amids this joyfull throng,
Ascanius, comming, interrupts the song.
Gaze on the beautyes of the lovely boy.
Resplendant rayes his visage beautifyes,
His chearfull countenance augments their joy.
Smiles grace his gesture, which in them doth move
Amazement, wonder, joy, delight, and love.
They mervell at the boy the gifts doth bring.
They muse a mortall's face so bright doth shyne,
Mistaking him to be a God, a king,
A mighty monarch, whose imperiows hand
Bears over all the vniverse command.
In this sweet object such delight she fand,
She, in his breast, (as fixed starrs), ensphears
Her sparkling lights, which still butt motion stand.
But, still the more, her starving eyes she feeds,
Desire encreasing still the greater breeds.
The heavenly lustre of his shining face,
Her more and more still in amazement hold.
Within her breast she finds no rest nor peace,
But, surffeitting on such vnusuall sights,
Although enflam't, she in the flame delights.
(An harmeles flie allured by the low);
Her self, vnwar, thus doth her self betray,
And feels the force of this small archer's bowe,
Whose eyes alone, sweet, cowrtes, voide of ire,
Dairt lightnings foorth, a world of love to fire.
The senses charmes of his supposed syre,
Now sucks his lips, now hings abowt his halse,
With kinde embraceings kindling his desyre.
He tenderly his child doth intertaine,
Mistaking whome his folded armes containe.
Whose marrowe boyles already in her bones.
She, for the cherries of his lips forsakes
All other daintyes, and in love suppones
A sweeter issue, nor experience bad,
In end expressed, in characters sad.
The infant clasping closely, she confines;
And to her foe's assaultes herself disarmes,
Vnwar, her liberty who vndermines,
And ignorant she holdeth on her breast
So great a God, so dangerows a ghuest.
Of late Sicheus, who her love enjoyed,
And empty veines with living fire he fills,
Her former flames which quickly have destroyed;
Her heart, long disaccustom'd now to love,
Affections strange and passions new doth prove.
By love led captive to a suddaine change.
She feels the poyson of his deadly dairts
To work in her by operation strange.
But none her trembling pulses neids to finde.
Her eyes bewray the sicknes of her minde.
To conquer beauty and to climb her forte;
Vowes, protestations, prayers, sighs and teares,
And cowrting strange in many a sundry sorte,
Betray poore women. Nature beauty made
Both to be loved and proved, nought die and fade.
And broad display'd her spangled cannopye.
In fire, air, sea and earth, all living things,
Which moving, flying, creeping, breathing be,
Did rest, in pleasant slumber buryed deep,
Save she whose wakeing thoughts impeacht her sleep.
THE SECOND BOOK.
In wounded veines a secret flame doth feed.
Æneas' vertue and his stemme preclare,
Still, in her ravisht minde, a place doth pleed.
Both voyce and eyes one onely object hold,
A masse of cares her restles thoughts enfold.
Her troubled braines, with visions new acquainted,
Present her lover still before her eyes,
The object which by day they most frequented.
Awak't againe frome her vnquiet rest,
She finds her spreit with passions strange possest.
Showe the distemper of her troubled minde.
No practise, humane industry, nor airt,
For her infection a remeid can finde;
Whose spreading poyson wholly hath ov'rrunne
Her veines, ere scairce she knew her grieff begun.
Heaven's cristall gates, (dayes golden beames recall'd),
“Deir sister Anna,” sighing sore, she sayes,
“What dreames, by night, my senses have appal'd!
What apparitions did vpraid my sight!
And broken sleeps, with sudden fears, affright!
How brave of gesture! and in armes as great!
Whose eyes, of humble majesty the seat,
With grave-sweit looks, imperiowsly entreat.
What broyles, what battles, what enconters bold,
Hath he ov'rpast with courage vncontrol'd!
Myself to none in nuptiall bands to joine,
Since death my first affection did dissolve,
And sacred Hymen's solemne knot disjoine;
To his assault, (if vnto any one),
I might be moved, (perhaps), to ȝeeld alone.
Since death frome me Sicheus did divorce,
Who prowd Pigmalion's cruelty did feele,
This man alone my fredome did enforce.
He only hath enflam't my dead desires;
I feel the footsteps of my former fires.
A secret flame, a close confined fire;
What hope is left to smother and supress't?
Which bred my sight, is fostered by desire;
O how I frye and freize, I faint and feare.
How great a loade, (alace), is love to beare!
Love bids the ȝeeld the in a stranger's will.
But honor tells how highly it imports the,
With headles haste thy pleasures to fulfill.
Since flying beauty most enflames desire,
And sweet deniall kindles Cupid's fire.
And prove those pleasures which to ȝowth belong;
But honor doth advise the to tak heade,
Thy spotles fame and princely partes to wrong.
Since vertue's field is easily laid waste,
And meates vnwholsomest most please the taste.
And, Erebus' dark shad's enclos'd among,
Let thund'ring Jove me of my life deprive,
O sacred modesty, ere I the wrong!
Or ever prease the statutes to eschew,
Of shamefastnes which to my sexe is due.
My soules affection hes frome hence transported;
O let it with his ghost for ever last,
Entomb't with him, where first my love resorted.”
This said, her eyes a cristall flood foorth powre,
And on her cheiks distill a pearlie showre.
“Dear as my life, more then my self affected,
Still shall thy ȝowth to mourne alone be tied?
Are childrene deare, by the, no more respected?
Hatst thow so much those joyes which Venus brings?
And think'st thow soules departed care such things?
Seas'd on thy minde, all sutes thow didst reject;
No Lybian husband, not Hiarbas great,
Nor Africk captaine couldst thow then affect;
But canst thow now resist, and not approve
The sweet effects of such contenting love?
Heir the Getulianes and Numidians stowt,
Heir Syrtes sands, famowse in barrennesse,
Heir the Barceans compas the abowt;
What shall I speak of Tyrus' new debates,
Which now arise, and of thy brother's threats?
The Trojane ships have heir the cowrse intended;
What citty, (sister), sall of this be made,
If such alliance prosperowsly wer ended?
What reignes arise, if Troy with vs wer one?
With what triumph should Africk shine anone?
Pretending cawses to thy ghuest of stay,
Till stormes be still, the seas to smile incline,
Ships saiff may saile, and heavens their furie lay.”
Her kindled breast thus Anna did enflame,
Swa hope she caught, exiling dowbt and shame.
To whome they truste the secret of their heart!
By her perswasion, O how quick doth love
Disperse the self, and spreed in every parte
A furiows flame, a fumeing fever fell!
No antidote this poyson can expell.
On altars off'ring to the gods above,
To Ceres, Phaebus, and to Bacchus great,
To Juno chiefly, who hath care of love.
With cuppe in hand, the Queen herself doth syne
Powre foorth vpon the sacrifice the wyne.
Observing what new Fortunes do ensue;
Marking the bowells, and the breathing places
Of every beast, with most attentive viewe,
Which open to her sight; with narrow eyes,
She gaz'd and guess'd; what all doth boad she sies.
Or what do temples sought her rage empare?
Whill as her marrow doth already faill,
With soaking flames consumed, dry'd vp with care,
And whill enclos'd into her breast profound,
She nourisheth a deadly feast'ring wound.
With hunter's shaft fast fix't into her side,
Runnes headlongs heir and their, both near and far,
But still the dart doth in her breast abide,
So Dido, poyson'd with a deadly head,
Butt rest doth rage, sore martyr'd but remeid.
With gloriows shows to entertaine his sight;
Now sumptuows banquets painfully provides,
With variows objects surffeiting delight.
Then Trojane toyles with burning minde to heere,
Oft she entreats, and gives most watchfull eare.
Whill frome her minde her wav'ring tongue debordes;
With looks anone she doth anew assaill,
Dumb oratours perswading more then words;
Whose silent language doth most lively teach,
How meane a messenger in love is speach.
With piercing lookes imperiowsly entreate,
And tell her lover that, too long vnkinde,
He overlookes her passionat estate.
O heavenly Rhet'rike! which butt words reveals
What modesty in women still conceales.
Day doth displace, provoking pleasant rest,
Oft she alone laments, oft doth embrace
The happy place which he of late imprest.
Oft to her trowbled senses it appeares,
That him still present she both sees and heares.
His parents portrate perfectly presenting,
Whome in her armes she softly doth enchaine,
By sweits suppos'd, her sowres of life relenting.
Thus stealing by the slowely sliding howres,
So to subdue loves still assailing powers.
Buildings begun ar left: ȝowth armes despise;
No bullwarkes brave, no rampiers rare arise,
But all engine of warre imperfect lies.
No martiall thought her minde doth more retaine,
For love and slouth insep'rable remaine.
With such a frensie Didoes minde infected;
And when her furiows fever, such she tried,
As no reporte nor rumour she respected,
To Venus first her cowrse she doth direct,
And to the Goddes thus begowth to break:
Thy boy and thow victoriows parte the spoile.
Have two, of heavenly issue both, throwne downe
One simple woman? O! a famows foile.
Art a beleving lady, vnadvised,
By Cupid conquer'd, and thy slight supprised?
Thus keep we armes? Why peace and amity
Prefer we not, though earst we did suspect
Owr prowd skie-reaching wals of Carthage hie?
Those feares remov'd, now at thine owne desire,
Thow hast what heart can wish or tongue require.
The furiows forge Æneas feeds alone.
O! let vs then conjoine, withowt returne,
With equall love vniting both in one.
Now Dido may be tyed to Trojane mate,
And thow receave, in tougher, Carthage great.”
Hid in the grasse, quick in her guilded wordes,
And counterfeet the Siren's song she tried;
To whome the Goddes answere thus affordes,
(Perceiving that of policy she spak
From Italy Æneas to keip back.)
Refuse thy freindship, or thy sutes denie?
If fates owr projects happily would end!
But O, I feare, when Jove owr minds doth trie,
If he will graunt this purpose to approve,
And if assent those partyes joine in love.
To learne [his] will; lead thow the way I followe.”
“That parte,” (quoth shee), “pertaines to me to play,
That fuird, though fear'd, I hope to find but shallowe.
But how the present purpose finish may,
Give eare, and shortly I sall showe the way.
Arising chearfully, beginnes to blush;
And, in the East, heavens cristall gate vncloses,
From whence big-looking Phaeton doth rush
With flaming haire; then are those lovers two
A hunting in the woddes resolv'd to goe.
Enclose abowt with hounds the trembling deir,
I, frome above, a tempest downe shall thro',
A fearfull storme, till all their troupes reteir.
With thund'ring noyse both heaven and earth sall shake,
Perforce the hunters shall the fields forsake.
None shall abide, but all in darknes stray;
With sable wings night shall envolve anone
The world each where: all shall in darknes stray.
One cave shall then, (butt witnes more), containe
The Trojane prince and Carthaginiane queene.
I shall be present, and with mutuall vowes
Mak her his wife, and him her mate and lord,
In all respects to vse her as his spouse;
Both tying with vnseparable bands,
In Hymen's presence joining hearts and hands.”
That she applauded vnto Junoes minde,
Begowth to laugh when shee perceiv'd the guile,
And gave a signe in token she enclin'd,
And to the purpose did assent, and so,
Whil they devise, the night away doth go.
The gallant ȝowthes for pastime all prepare,
With nets of ev'ry sorte, with hunting speares;
The horsemen haste with hounds, of sent most rare.
Before the palace all the cowrt attends
The Queen's aryvall, whil the morning spends.
Threat'ning the bitt, her palfrey stamping stayed.
With mighty traine herself then marches foorth,
With broid'red mantle, hunter-like arrayed.
Of gold her quaver, gold her loks divids,
And purple garment, tied with gold, abides.
Accompany'd with all the Trojane peers.
Æneas last majestickly succeeds,
Whose brave proportion all, butt match, admires.
With stately cariage, marching forward fast,
Till with the Queen his troupes he joines at last.
When Zanthus' floods, and Lycia's cold he flyes,
And to his native soile himself conformes,
To Delos, there to feast and sacrifize.
For gladenes all th' inhabitants do shout,
Dancing with joy the altars round about.
With hov'ring locks, which drest in circling rownds,
With Lawrell garlandes, and with golden lace,
Are touss'd; his shafts betwix his shoulders sounds.
So march't the stately Trojane; such his grace,
Such was the beauty of his heavinly face.
And found the haunts where as the beasts had stayed;
Behold! the deir downe from the rocks do flie,
Coursing abroad, athort the fields affrayed.
Both heards of Hart and Hinde the hills forgoe,
And in one globe with feet the dust vpthroe.
Making his steid his ȝowthfull rider feele;
And now doth one, now others over-ride,
With dastard beasts disdaining more to deele,
But earnestly wisheth for some foamie boare,
Or that ane ramping lyon once would roare.
With noyse and terrour; fire and lightnings flie;
Of raine and rageing wind a tempest great,
With horride darknes, dimme the worlds bright eye;
Fire, water, air, and earth seame all anone,
With hiddeows tumult, intermixt in one.
Assail'd by rageing torrents tumbling downe
Frome toppes of steipest montaines: all forsake
The fields, affrayed in every rill to drowne.
Their troupes, divided, search themselves to shroud
Frome furiows heavins, with thunders roaring lowd.
The Trojane Duke and Dido both contained.
Prodigiows presages sad earth did ȝeeld,
With them when Juno in the cave convein'd.
The guilty air gave light; the fire did glance;
And montaine Faryes did bewaile the chance.
Brings tidings sad of dearth, or death of kings,
Drawes all men's eyes to gaze amidst the aire,
Conjecturing thereby of future things;
So, whil at first, the Princes beauty shin'd,
Æneas wond'ring ravish't was in minde.
The piercing rayes of her victoriows eyes,
Bred in his soule such singulare delight,
And did his senses suddainely supprise,
In such a sort, that of all sense denude,
He long a lifles, senseles statue stoode.
And ravish with amazement hardest hearts,
Reviv'd him frome his traunse, recal'd his breath,
And to his sleeping senses life empartes;
Who instantly confines, within his armes,
His sweetest Siren, who his fancie charmes.
With diverse colours dye her blushing cheeks!
When, (lay'd aside respect of majesty),
The fort to render, proud Æneas seeks.
And whil, (desire rul'd by the blinded boy,)
Loves sweet-stolne sport he labours to enjoy.
Lo! how she shrinking, strives his sutes to shune;
But he now offers force, now doth entreate,
And still persewes, till last the prise is wonne.
The jemme enjoy'd, which women hold so deare,
And honour prostrate, blushing did reteare.
With hote desire whil ȝowthfull blood doth boyle?
Though she repine, do his assaults desist?
Small glory is a ȝeelded foe to foyle.
Women must still deny and vse defences,
Till charming Cupid lull a sleep the senses.
And mutually her mate doth entertaine;
Loe! how her strict embraces him enfold,
Whil as they issue frome the cave againe,
Nothing asham'd to come in open sight,
Thus vse in sinning soone maks sin seame light.
This day of all her sorrowes was the source:
Now neither fame she cares, nor shame, nor sin,
Nor more devises any secrete cowrse
To cloake her love; but mariage this she thinks,
And at this foule offence, (effronted), winks.
And suddaine rumours soone through Africk sends.
Fame, which by flight and moving lives & breads,
Lurks first belowe, then straight to hevin ascends.
With nimble wings from earth she doth arise,
And hides her head amidst the starry skies.
Against the gods, with blind ambition driven,
Themselves ov'rthrowne, their proud designes repell'd,
Darring to scale the batlements of heaven),
Her brooded foorth, (they say), in great despight,
A sister light of foot, and swift of flight.
How many wav'ring plumes her carcasse beares,
Als many eyes them vnderneath do watch;
(A wondrous thing to showe), als many eares
Still heark both near and far, throughowt all bounds;
Als many mowthes; als many tongues resounds.
Her brazen trumpe to sownd she sleep forsakes.
Great cittyes oft by day she terrifyes.
On turrets hie she sitts, when rest she takes.
And whil she showes what she hath seene by viewe,
Things ofter fain'd she doth reporte then true.
Blazing abroad both things vndone and done.
How to Æneas, of the Trojanes one,
The matchles Dido dain'd her self to joine,
Who given to please the flesh, (a life vnjust),
Care-les of kingdomes, live in lawles lust.
To loath'd Hiarbas now she taks her flight,
And showes this lover even the worst of ill,—
How, he disdain'd, a stranger joyes his right.
This king was Joves owne sone, and child most deare,
Whome Garamanth the noble nymph did beare.
An hundreth altars are to Jove vpraised,
Where he hath consecrate a quencheles fire,
Where, night and day, th' eternall gods are praised.
The blood of bullocks cover all the grounde;
Sweit smelling floures through all the flures are founde.
Sore griev'd and with those bitter newes displeased,
Himself in presence of the gods addrest,
And their before the altars sacrifized.
With humble heart, and hie erected hands,
Thus powring foorth his plaints to Jove he stands:
As heaven's most gloriows guide and judge supreme,
On carpetts ritch, to thy immortall glore
Solemnely feasting, celebrate thy name.
Beholdst thow this, O father most benigne!
Of heaven and earth the sempiternall king.
(Dread soveraigne!) ȝit we nothing are affrayed;
Though by thy lightnings we thy wraith do knowe,
Ȝit not-the-les owr wickednes is stayed;
As lacking force, thy fires no fear affords,
And judgements past no mortall more records.
To whome, both towne and bounds where she remain'd
I gave, with lawes to governe her estate,
My mariage most vngrately hath disdain'd,
And plac'd a stranger over her empires,
As only Sov'raigne of her soules desires.
Half-men, half-maids, resembling both or neither,
His curled head with Phrygian mytre guised,
With balmed haires, his spoyles enjoyes the rather.
But we, befoire thine altares gifts do heape,
And nothing els but fruteles fame do reape.”
The Thund'rer heard, and turning straight his eyes
To Carthage cowrt, (whose stately turrets shin'd
'Gainst Phœbus' rayes), where he those lovers sees,
Drunk with delight of sin, not careing shame,
Whole given to lust and misregarding fame:
“And with Æolian wings addresse thy flight
To Carthage, where the Trojane chiftane stayes,
And kingdomes given by Fate regardes so light.
Go swiftly sliding through the subtle aire,
My vncontrolled will to him declare.
Nor twise for this from Graecian armes reskued;
But one to daunt sterne Mars, not doate in love,
Ov'r Italy to reigne, by him subdued.
To kythe his courage frome his noble race,
And mak the world each where his lawes embrace.
Nor loves for praise to putt himself to paine,
Should he Ascanius frustrate of his right?
Amidst his foes what meanes he to remaine?
Nor looks what justly to his ayres doth fall?
To sea he must! this is the summe of all!”
With nimble feathers to the winds displayed;
Divides the cristall sphears and circles blew,
And cutts the clouds, with golden wings arrayed.
The mover first, the light and shyning fire
He leaves, descending frome great Jove's empire.
With all the signes the Zodiak adorne.
Owtrunnes the cowrse of straying starres and fixt,
Of planets, which the rest in beauty scorne,
And glist'ring bright, each in a golden robe,
With gloriows lustre, grace heaven's azure globe.
Owtflyes the eagle and the silver swan,
The flamming dragon, which the Beirs divides,
The Dolphin ravish't with delight of man,
The croune and speare, with many many a million
Of lamps, which light this spatiows pavillion.
Where raine and thunders, heat and cold do strive,
He leaves als swift as shaft from archers bowe,
And in a sweitter soyle doth soone arive,
Where as the Hydra, and the hirpling Hare,
As mates, in the Antartick Pole repare.
And sends downe soules to Plutoes dark empires;
Both giveth sleep, and sleeping doth restraine,
Lenthes and abridges life, as he desires.
Still thus he flyes, till he discerne the tops
Of Atlas hudge, the Pole which vnderprops,—
With sable clouds encompast all abowt,
Nor haile, nor sleet, nor wind, nor weit eschewes;
Adoune his shoulders raging spates do spowt;
Whose wrinkled chin great floods do overflowe,
And hiddeows beard maide stiff with frost and snowe.
Hence posts with speed, his cowrse through th' ocean plying,
And as the swiftest bird, a thowsand wayes,
Now soaring hie, now low her feathers trying,
Alongst the coast of Africk still he flyes,
Till stately Carthage now at lenth he sees.
And touch't the turrets of those buildings rare,
Anone Æneas he perceaves in sight,
Raising ritch monuments amidst the aire,
To building bent, begirt with sword most bright
With jasper stones, which, starrified, gave light.
Hung frome his shoulders, gloriows to behold,
Which gifts the noble Dido had propin'd,
Wov'ne by her self, and warpt with twist of gold.
No sooner him thus busied he beholds,
But instantly his message sad vnfolds.
And, (far from hence), heir sumptuous buildings reares,
Skie-reaching castells raising from the ground,
Vnmindfull of thy kingdome and effaires;
To the I come, to the, frome heavens above,
The winged herauld of great thund'ring Jove.
What meanst thow heir in Africk to remaine?
To conquere glory if thow be not inclin'd,
Nor loves for praise to put thy self to paine,
Ascanius rising ȝit behold, and wey
The hope of ayers from him by just degrie,
To which the Romane empire appertaines.
To sea thow must!” Thus said, he bids adieue,
And visible no more at all remaines
To mortall sight: as Phœbus beames do banish
A sable cloud, so did the god evanish.
What passions the perplexe? why lookst thow pale?
What suddaine sorrowes on thy soule have seazed?
What froward fate hath turn'd thy blesse to baill?
What woes so vive, charact'red in thy face,
Thus overcloud the rayes of princely grace?
In nature's dear embraces laid a sleep,
Whil Hydras and Chymeras mock the sight,
And wound the soule with apprehensions deep,
Whil as this masse, wherein nought moves but breath,
Oft starts, whil gastly Gorgones threatne death;
With armes acrosse; his colour comes and goes;
Words find no vent; confus'd with suddaine feares,
His haires for horrour and affright vprose.
Sad, pale, astonisht, and of sense bereft
He seem'd; this sight such deep impression left.
Of things humane to Jove's eternall will.
He must not follow what he doth affect.
What heavens command poore mortalls must fulfill.
Now must he leave his princesse and her state.
Who may resist inevitable Fate?
How dar he this his enterprise reveale
To furiows Dido? how her minde relent?
What way with her dar he begin to deale?
Resolving now, now changing, nought contents,
In diverse partes his dowbtsome minde he rents.
(As only best advise to be embrac'd),
Sergestus, Mnestheus, and Cloanthus tall;
Straight gives command their fleet to rig in haist,
And by their counsell, providence, and care,
For flight by sea doth privily prepare.
In readines remaining on the shoare,
In shining armes who suddainly ar seene
For feare of any following vproare,
And cawses fain'd, to keip their plots vnkend,
Of such novationes publickly pretend.
And doubts no breach of such sure founded love,
To try her pleasant hours most fitt to showe,
And search if he her owne consent could move.
Their prince's pleasure they, butt more delay,
Haste all anone with glaidnes to obey.
And fand the cowrse intended for their flight,
(What slight so great a lover can deceive?
What fetch of fyne device could syle her sight?)
Then foorthwith fame disperst for newes abroade,
In readines their ships at anchore roade.
With hiddeows clamoure railes the streets through owt,
Most like the furiows Thyas running mad,
The fearfull leader of that rageing rowt;
Whil as the Moenads, who abhorre the light,
Do sacrifize to Bacchus in the night.
Anger and furie in her face did flame;
Mad passions did her patience displace,
Despight and rancour reason overcame;
Wraith keipt in words, sighs only passage finde,
Whose vapours vented, ease her burden'd minde.
(Extremity to words a way affords:)
“Dost thow intend, deir lord,” (quoth she), “to break
Thy solemne vowes, and violate thy words?
Thy sad departure frome thy love to hyd,
And frome thir shoares thus secretly to slyde?
What discontent thus change in the doth move?
What wrong, (alas!), or what offence in me,
Thus maks the loath and vilipend my love?
With too much kindnes art thow overcloyed?
Or ar my favowrs hated, 'cawse enjoyed?
Sigh, faine to die, look pale, protest, and sweare,
Vowing thy service at my feet, whil ȝit
For all thy oathes thy policies appear.
By sad experience, O! I find it true,
That seldome lust delights in what is due.
(For poore, weak women euer bear the blame),
Why thow my bed, as stayn'd, dost disesteeme,
Regardles of my favour, thy defame.
But I to the appeal, if ere my ȝowth
Gave proofe of ought butt vndistained trewth.
From men's deceits, and charming flatterings free,
Nor once one thought of love did intertaine,
Cruell to all, but kinde alone to the?
Keipt I so long my marble minde vnshaken,
To be by the disdain'd, and thus forsaken?
The jewell, which of laite so dear thow prised;
And be not author of her sad disgrace,
Who cannot breath and be by the despised.
Returne, Deir Lord, leave not thy halfe behind,
What I entreate with tears thy oathes do bind.
Thy guilded words and vowes first won the field;
When, to thy sutes, consent my silence gave,
And poore beleving I, myself did ȝeild.)
How thow did swear, resolve, protest and vow,
Still to be hers, whom thow disdainest now?
Those passionat regrates, but arm'd with airt?
Those looks, so sad, but for the fashion fraimed
To melt with pitty my relenting heart?
Whil thow beneath thy passions seam'd to faint,
And thowsand colours thy pale cheiks did paint.
Though faynd, in me produc't no false effects.
By those betray'd, I from myself did range,
Too prodigall of what thow now neglects;
And headlesly to thy desires consenting;
Whilk breeds in the dislike, in me lamenting.
What owtward virtues now in me do want?
Do not thir beautyes even the same appeare,
That did attract thine heart of adamant?
No stolne vermilion blush, to charme delight
With false allurements, did bewitch thy sight.
That new-found falshood, conterfoot of nature,
Shame of owr sexe, the stayne of modesty,
Fewell to lust, to chastity a traitoure,
That mystery to me was still vnknowne,
This red and white was then, as now, mine owne.
Now overclouded with afflictions vaile;
Though sutes, nor sighes find pitty nor remorce;
Though passions, plaints, and prayers nought prevaile;
And though thir eyes' bright sunne, obscur'd with smarte,
Lack piercing rayes to penetrate thy heart;
My constant love, thy promise and right hand,
Nor thine owne Didoes miserable death;—
Can none of those deteine the in this land?
But ah! whil winter's stormes thus raigeing be,
Wilt thow endanger both thy self and me?
Whil boystrows Boreas threats the swelling seas?
Suppone, though Troy ȝit vndestroy'd did last,
And to no forraine countrey now thow flyes,
Whil furiows neptune rageing doth remaine,
Thy native Troy should thow by shipping gaine?
Which leaue affliction's furrowes on my face;
By thy right hand, by all the hopes and feares
Possesse poore lovers, by those oathes, alace!
Which me betrayed, by owr espousall day,
And by that love thow bar'st me once, I pray,
To the ought dear if ever Dido gave,
Showe now compassion; firme thy faith observe;
My life and croune from death and ruine save.
O! let my prayers ȝit relent thy minde,
If any place with the my sutes may finde.
For thee, the hatred of mine owne I beare;
For thee alone, my shamefast lyf I brack,
And Fame I lost, to me nor life more deare.
To whom thus leavest thow me, to die with shame,
O ghuest? I dar no more the husband name.
Thy foes triumph? thy self detained a slave?
Ȝit, if at least before thy flight from me,
My luck had been succession sweet to have;
If any small Æneas heir did play
Within this hall, thy face who might bewray,
Nor vtterly forsaken should I seeme.”
Thus clos'd she weeping, but no words culd move
His marble minde, he doth so much esteime
The Thund'rer's will. With stedfast eyes he stair'd,
And, obstinate, for answere thus prepar'd:
Thy favowres far surmount my meane deserts.
Thy beauty's bountys, and thy loyaltie,
Would ravish with remorce the hardest hearts.
Nor shall I euer cease, (till heavens afford
My life's last gaspe), thy kindnes to record.
No tract of time shall frome my minde remove.
Dear shall thy memory be still to me;
Dear the remembrance of Eliza's love;
And, where so e're remov'd, thow may by right
Esteime me still thy souldier and thy knight.
As to this end I never heir arived
Myself in Hymen's sacred bands to tie,
To be of dearest liberty deprived.
So, butt thy knowledge, neither did I minde
To steale from hence, forȝetfull, and vnkinde.
My life, according to my minde, shuld lead,
Demolish't Troy in dust no more should lie,
And Priam's tow'rs should ȝit amazement bread.
Those hands my native city should restore,
And raise anone to all her former glore.
To Itally the dest'nyes me command.
Their my delight, my countrey, mine estate.
How canst thow my departure thus withstand?
As thow a stranger dost in Africk stay,
Why may not I to Italy mak way?
Earth's low'ring face, and glist'ring starres arise;
Anchises' ghost als oft my soule agasts
With fearfull visions to my sleeping eyes;
Admonishing, with terrour and affright,
Me to forgoe thy soyle and deirest sight.
By dreames appeareth frustrate of his right,
Keipt from the croune of Itally so long,
And fatall bounds; both those steir vp my flight.
And now wing'd Hermes, sent from Jove to me,
Commands from hence that I in haste should flie.
(Whil as dayes bright beames wer shining) did perceive;
His heavenly voyce thir humane ears did heare.
Leaue then, (I pray), dear Queen, those things to crave,
As may steir vp both the and me to woe.
To Italy against my will I goe.”
(With greiff in heart and sorrow in her face,
Rolling each where her eyes with lookes vnkinde,
As in amazement), did behold a space.
Not able more her passion to suppresse,
Those bitter words, at last, she doth expresse:
Sprung from no parents, but of brutish kinde,
The Paphyen Queen such brood did never beare,
Nor the Anchises gott, O wretch vnkinde!
But of the hoarse sea wavs, and hardest stane,
Nurst by some Tigresse, thow hast essence taine.
For what things more should I myself reserve?
Oh! how he did my wofull plaints despise,
And stood vnmov'd, whill I for greiff did swarve.
All my regrates and tears, powr'd foorth in vaine,
From his hard breast one sigh could never straine.
Ay me! where shall my tragoedy begin?
Let heauens behold my sad afflicted cace,
The grievs and woes I am envolved in.
Let mighty Jove, let Juno from above,
Look on my wrongs and ill-rewarded love.
The dear delights of sacred chastity,
Free from the slee deceits of Venus' boy,
Secure frome danger of disloyalty;
Who never ȝit have knowne men's perjuries,
Nor stand in neid of Argus' hundreth eyes;
Whose vertew's streame vntrubled still runnes pure;
Frie birds, whom never hand hath seaz't vpon,
From fouler's whisle and deceits secure;
Frie from love's plague and perillows infection,
Nor wonne by men, nor vassaills to affection;
Nor truste that impiows and vnfaithfull race,
Who ne're to vs do what they are appeare,
(Perniciows instruments of owr disgrace);
And whatsomever showe they do pretend,
Nought but owr shame and infamy intend.
Are all but fain'd to breid in vs compassion.
None minds his oaths, nor meanes the thing he sweares,
Ȝit cunningly can con̄terfitt a passion.
Owr tender hearts with pitty which betraying,
Works their advantage, and owr sure decaying.
And overcloud with black reproach owr fame!
Thus are owr fortunes mar'd, owr honours lost,
By those who ar delighted in owr shame.
Let Dido's sad experience serve to prove
Their is no trewth in men, nor trust in love.
This wretch whom seas had naked cast on shoare,
I, (foolish I), prefer'd, who now disdaines
My self, my scepter, and will stay no more;
Vnmindfull miser whom I did receive,
And plac'd, as Lord, ov'r me and all I have.
Apollo now! now Oracles Divine!
Now heaven's great messenger is thus impesht!
Quhat ells? Now thund'ring Jove doth thus encline,
And hath his winged herauld sent to vs!
It's like enough the gods ar busied thus!
I neither hold it's trew, nor false repells.
Go, cruell, go! to Italy, ingrate!
Go, traitour! where thy dest'nies the compells.
Go with such joy, such comfort, peace, and rest,
As now thow leaves in my afflicted breast.
(If heavens with equity behold my wrongs),
Vengeance on the, in presence of thir eyes,
For thy deserts, shall fall, the rocks amongs,
Where Dido, whom thow oft by name shall call,
With brands of fire thy conscience shall apall.
My body from my better halfe shall parte,
My angry ghost, till I avenged be,
Shall the persew each where with armes and airt,
Nor earth's lowe centre, neither heaven nor hell,
Shall shield the frome my spight and fury fell.”
But, preassing to eschew his hatefull sight,
Excesse of greiff her purpose heir did break,
(Her latest words scarce heard, nor vtt'red right).
Her vitall powers did faill, her life did faint,
And death his image in her face did paint.
And left him, (wofull wight), himself alone,
Full many things prepareing to have said,
And maid reply. With that her maids anone,
With ruefull cryes, her frozen corps do bear,
And her in bed they lay with duilfull chear.
(Ov'rcome with greiff, and wounded with remorce),
T' have calm'd the tempest of her troubled minde
With chearfull words, touch't with affection's force;
Whil as the tears, which from his eyes did slide,
If seene by her, her rage had mollifi'd;
To heavens and her his duety how discharge?
A labyrinth of dowbts doth him envolve;
Pitty withstood what Jove did strictly charge;
Constraint him led at lenth, with ruefull look,
Loe! how of her, his last farewell he took.
Could not the sunne-set of those lovely eyes,
(Whil death her senses stopt), to pitty move
Thy flinty heart? O! so to tyrannize
Ov'r conquer'd beauty, to thy fame adds soyle:
The victor seldome leaves behind his spoyle.
Their fleet to loose, and launch into the deepe:
Ships, hulks, and galleyes slide along the shore,
And frome the haven with pitched keills do creep.
Trees ȝit vnshapen, blooming leawes for haste,
And oakes ȝit floorishing for oares they plac't.
All rushing headlongs, hasting from the towne;
As emmets, whil for winter they provide,
Disperst abroad, each running vp and downe,
An heap of corne do spoyle, and beare away
To those hid dennes where they intend to stay.
And through darne passages their spoyles convoy;
The greatest graine on shoulders some do beare,
With all his might each doth himself employ.
With earnest repare the paths do seeme to sweate:
So ran the Trojanes to launch foorth their fleate.
What sense of sorrow? what vnkindly care?
What deep-drawne sighs? when thow, (sad soule), didst see,
(Wak't from thy traunce), such tumult every where.
When all the Ocean seem'd, frome shore to shore,
With thund'ring noyse into thine eares to rore.
Feeles not the force of thy vnbounded ire?
What breathing creature may resist thy might?
Thy fierce assaults, thy bowe, thy shafts, thy fire?
What dost thow not poor mortall's force to trie,
Subjected once vnto thy tyranny?
Againe to treat, againe to turne to teares;
A poore petitioner constrain't to prove,
An humble supplicant to closed eares;
And least, vntried, she ought had overpast,
Thus she resolv's to try him ȝit at last.
Those impiows traitours mak from hence to saile?
And leaue me loath'd, forsaken, and disgrac't,
Whome death and infamy alike assaile.
Loe! where their fleet, an happy gayle to finde,
Doth ly at anchor, waiting on the winde.
A waste abysse, a boundles gulf of greiff,
I could have fear'd should thus have drown'd my joyes,
Those feares afforded might haue my releiff.
But, (sister), ȝit before my tragick fate,
Go, charg't with teares, this last requeest entreate.
To the alone his minde he would reveale;
Thow knows his graciows howres, O sister deare;
Thow knows his times, most fitt with him to deale.
Go! I entreat, to my disdainfull foe,
And those few words from his poore Dido shoe.
Nor vow'd at Aulis ancient Troyes disgrace;
Nor sent I navies, armed with sword and fire,
To sack his citty, or extirpe his race.
Anchises' ghost, inter'd, I did not teare.
Why, why refuses he my words to hear?
Nought ells I crave, (O! let him now obey
This last request of me his dying love),
Before his flight let heavens their fury lay,
O! let him stay whil Æol's rage doth last,
Till Thetys calme, till perill first be past.
Nor sues he should forgoe his mindes delight.
Showe him nought ells his Dido doth emplore,
But let him choose a time more fitt for flight.
A pause to slack my fury I beseach,
My state to mourne, till me my fortune teach.
I humbly plead; pitty thy sister's state,
And when thow hast obtain'd what I require,
To all my greiffs death shall afforde a date.”
Thus she entreats, thus Anna weeping goes,
And thus with teares Æneas' answere sho'es.
No pitty can prevale to plead remorce;
Sighs are despised, no place is found for teares,
Her sutes vnheard, her prayers have no force.
Fates do withstand, great Jove his eares hath charmed,
And heavens him with an hard'ned heart have armed.
Which rageing winds impetuously assaile,
And threat the trembling tree to vndermine,
On each side striving her from earth t' vphaile,
With hiddeows noyse which reeling to and froe,
Now heir now their, still seames to overbloe.
Her heaven-bent bewes must either bow or break,
Her straughtest tops are forc't the earth to wound,
But ȝit how much they do themselfs ereck
To heavens; als much her rootes reach downe belowe,
And grips the rocks; no storme can her ov'rthrowe.
With tears and prayers on each side assail'd,
Though long his minde confus'd with dowbts appear'd,
Ȝit neither pitty, plaints, nor words avail'd;
He stedfast stands, sighes can no favour gaine;
Torrents of teares ar powred foorth in vaine.
THE THIRD BOOKE,
CONTAINING ÆNEAS DEPARTURE AND DIDOES TRAGAEDY, &c.
Greiv'd with the Fates' vnflexible decree,
Her heavy soull abhorres the loathed light,
Charg't with affliction and anxietie.
Heaven's cristall vaults she wearyes more to view,
Resolv't at once to bid the world adiewe.
It seem't she saw, (a monstrows sight to showe),
The liquours black, the wyne in blood to turne,
Presaging her approaching overthrowe.
To none this fearfull vision she reveal'd,
Ȝea, even from Anne, she this sight conceal'd.
Where humbly heavens Sicheus earst ador'd,
Whose marble walls rare artifice had grac'd,
With sacred bewes, and fleeces white decor'd.—
From thence, (whill night earth's face did overcloud),
It seem'd Sicheus call'd her name aloud.
With tragick toones her smarte and sorrow shew,
With mourning accents seiming to bemone,
As if she knew some bad mischaunce t' ensue;
Then diverse things, which prophets shew of old,
Her mangled minde with monstrows visions hold.
Still seaming to be left herself alone,
And vagabounding in ane heavy cace
Through fields vnknowne, accompanyed by none,
Searching her people, but she none can finde,
A tediows journey to her wearyed minde:
Two Sunnes, two Thebes, both at once to see;
Or as Orestes in his fancy dream't
His hydra-headed mother he did flie,
Arm'd all with snakes, and brands of burning fire,
Each place seam't plenisht with revenge and ire.
No salue butt death could cure her inward sore,
And with her self on time and forme aggreed,
(Loathing the world, resolv't to liue no more),
This fain'd device, suspicion till eschew,
Of her designes she to her sister shew.
And hope appearing in her eyes to shine):
“O Anna, now rejoyce thy sister's cace,
For I an way have found by rare engine,
Which him with me to stay shall either move,
Or teach me to reclaime from him my love.
Which sees the sonne go downe in westerne deeps;
Whose coastes abowt the Ocean doth fence;
Of Æthiopia the name it keeps;
Where Atlas hudge on shoulders strong doth beare,
And vnderprops heaven's star-embroidred spheare.
Expert in magick, hath from thence repair'd,
Who keeps the garden of th' Hesperian tryne,
And feeds the dragon which the frute doth guarde;
Mixing with honey, and with liquours sweet,
The purple poppy which provoketh sleep.
And whom she pleases, als can plague with love;
Torrents ar stayed; stars retrograde their cowrse;
Spreits from belowe do at her word remove;
Dull earth doth roare, and horribly resound,
And tallest trees do headlongs fall to ground.
And witnes to the world, against my will,
That I, constrain'd, to magick airts accorde,
And seeks redresse by such vnlawfull skill.
Go thow, ereck in th' inner cowrt in haste
A fire of wod, vpon the walls hie plac'd.
His cloaths, and als owr haples wedding-bed,
In which I perisht whil I fear'd no bretch;
And let those all vpon the flame be laid,
So that no token vndestroyed may stand
Which him pertain'd. Thus doth the priest cm̄and.”
To stop the currant of her swelling teares;
The crimson dy abandoning her face,
Sad, faint, and pale, she look't, confus't with feares.
Ȝit Anna doubts not that she doth intend
Thus to disguise her death, and cloak her end.
She dreids her sister in her thoughts conceav'd;
Nor feares now ought more fearfull till haue seene,
Nor when Sicheus was of life bereav'd.
Wherefore in haste, she, (simple soull), obeyes,
And, to performe her charge, no more delayes.
With garlands deckt, and crownd with Cypres bewes.
The Queen her sad misfortunes first bemones,
And with her teares his portrate she bedewes.
Syne with the bed, sword, cloathes, she layes ye same
Vpon the heap, to perish in the flame.
The Priest appearing then with hov'ring haire,
With thund'ring noyse, three hundreth times doth showt
On Fiends and Pharyes thither to repare;
Conjuring by some charme or magick spell,
The fowle three headed Hecate from hell.
They search by night some sucking foale to finde,
And pull the hippom'nes from his tender front,
The mother's minde which to the brood doth binde.
Collecting als, their damned work to speed,
The milkie poyson of each ven'mowse weed.
With one foot bair, her garment loosse vntied,
With humble heart, and heaven-erected hands,
Calling to witnes, (now before she dyed),
Her guilty starres, and all the gods above,
Of both their partes,—his perjury, her love.
Or godhead which such lovers doth regarde,
As loves sweit ȝock, and sympathie, do stayne,
And true affection with disdaine regarde,
With fervent minde, fixing her eyes above,
To such she prayes, mindfull and just to prove.
Each living soull death's image pale possest.
The savage citiȝens, which life did leed
In wods and waters, all secure did rest.
Whil as the heavenly torches, burning bright,
The equall half had wasted of their light.
The brutish bands which in the deserts dwell,
Easing their wearyed mindes, sweet slumber takes,
Cares past entombeing in oblivion's cell.
But not so Dido: neither sleep nor ease
Vpon her self-consuming minde can sease.
No night her eyes, no rest her thoughts obtaine;
Despight, wraith, furie,—each his place doth keip;
No paussing-space her troubled spreit doth gaine.
But now, inflamed, she burnes in furiows fire,
Now foorth with freeȝeth in revenge and ire.
My scornefull victor, proud of my disgrace?
Shall I with shame my former suters seeke?
There sew for favour, there entreat for grace
Where pitty pleaded, I so oft disdain'd?
Where mercy beg'd, I ruethles still remain'd?
Fraughted with falshood, guile, and perjuryes?
As if thy former favours now shuld meet
My discontents, and sad afflictions ease.
O ȝes! performed pleasures, kindnes past,
In gratefull mindes lay'd vp so long doth last.
Should any second my desires? alace!
Who would regarde so much my loathed love,
As daigne their stips to render me a place?
Forsaken soule, too late thow dost repent,
Thow knew Laomedon's perjur'd discent.
Or raise my people to revenge and waste?
And so endanger by the seas anew,
Those, present perill who have scarce ov'rpast?
Fy! Dye thyself! such is thy due desert;
Once let this sword put period to thy smarte.
Didst overloade me with this masse of care;
Thow to my foe captiv'd me vnaffrayed;
Thow to mine en'mie mad'st me ȝeeld butt feare.
Ah! might I not have happy liv'd alone,
And never more the cares of wedlock knowne?
With love's misfortunes and afflictions crost,
If I had keept inviolate my trueth
To my Sicheus, dear departed ghost.”
Those sad regrates, with all the wofull words
A troubled soull could ȝeeld, she thus affords.
Æneas in his schip secure did sleep,
When to his eyes the god againe appear'd,
Such as before, and thus did seame to speak,
Lyk Mercury in all, in ȝowthfull stature,
In golden haires, in speach, in face, in feature:
And pond'rest not thy perillows estate?
Hath sleep so much o'rcome thy fainting eyes,
That thow regard'st no danger nor deceate?
Rests thow secure, whil death doth the invade,
Vnwar what plottes against thy life ar laid?
Sweet-breathing Zephyr with a gentle gale
From hence to haiste seames smilingly t'entraite the;
For death-bent Dido, full of bitter bale,
Transported with a rageing spait of ire,
'Gainst the is minded both with sword and fire.
The seas anone shall scarce for shipps be seene;
Thy navy furiows firebrands shall deface,
And all the Ocean in one flame shall seeme,
If fondly thow thy flight frome hence delay,
Till once Aurora parte the night from day.
A woman wav'ring formed is by nature;
Now bent to love, to hate inclyn'd anone,
In only jnconstancie a constant creature.”
This spoken, he evanisht owt of sight
In the ayrie essence of the sable night.
Rouz'd vp his sleepy senses; loud did call:
“Awake, my mates! too long our flight's delay'd;
Hoase sayle in haste! hy to the hatches all!
The thund'rer great hath sent anone by night,
His winged messenger into my sight.
Trusse vp owr taickling! cables cut in twaine!
Once let's set fordwart all with one applawse,
Behold, the God admonisheth againe!
We follow the, O gloriows guide, butt stay,
And thy great charge we gladly all obey.
Adjoine thy presence and thine helping might!
Grant that a prosp'rows Planet now may reigne!
Let happy starres arise to guide owr flight!”
This having said, butt more the anchore roape,
With shyning sword vnsheath't, in twaine he stroake.
All headlongs haiste; one ardowre all retaine;
They rush, they reele, as heaven and earth did fall,
And overspread with sayles the wat'ry plaine.
On Neptun's back all whyt with foame they ride,
And ov'r the tumbling billows fast do slide.
Over sad earth her silver mantle spread,
And in the Orient blushing did appeare,
Asham't to rise frome aged Tython's bed,
When watchfull Dido from her palace spy'd
The Trojane fleet alongst the coast to glyde.
With wings owtstreatch't, all vnder equall saile,
The hudge armado, watching, she remarkes
Through Neptun's empires with ane evenly gale;
Whil roaring engines, throwing globes off steele,
Did thunder foorth an horrible fareweell.
Hope's wings cutt of, she enters in despare,
And renting foorth, (enrage't), her golden haire:
“O Jove,” she cries, “who know'st alone my care,
Thus shall he go? And must I, in my soyle,
Of such a vagabound receiue this foyle?
Or shall my subjects all persue the chase
With fire and sword their scornefull shipps to quail?
Fy! People owt! Their fleet with flames deface!
Hoase sayle in haste! Fy, now ȝowr oares employ,
Sack, wreak, revenge, demolish and destroy!
With armes and arte I will persue to death
This traitour. Vengeance now to me belongs.
In hope alone of sweet revenge I breath.
In crwelty I will this cruell wight
Surpas. No sheild shall saue him frome my spight.
Where art thow now thus frome thy self astray,
Afflicted Dido? O how hard thy cace!
What suddaine change doth thus thy minde dismay?
Oh how accurst! how haples is thy fate!
These threats (alace!) thow vtters now too late.
When thus the fortune of thy foe thow rays'd.
Is this his promise? Is his faith so slender,
Whose piety each where abroad was blaz'd,
Both to his Gods, and aged parent deare,
Whome, worne with ȝeirs, on shoulders he did beare?
This truethles tyrant and his fellowes all?
Ah! might I not have stop't Ascanius' breath,
And torne his tender flesh in parcells small?
Then drest him for that traitour false to eate,
To fairse his belly with so kindly meate.
And ov'rlofts all with flaming firebrands fill'd!
O that thir hands at once both sonne and syre,
And all those traitours cruelly had kill'd!
O, then how gladly should this hand and sword
In that same moment als my death afford!
With piercing rayes each work on earth doth viewe;
Thow, Juno, guilty of my misery,
Sacred Diana, with thy silver hew,
Whose triple-horned forhead doth controule
Skies, earth and hell,—the night's swift moving soule;
Ȝe, in whose safegarde wretch't Eliza lived!
And ȝe, O furyes! O vindictive tryne!
Who venge their wrongs who are vnjustly grieved,
Pitty my plaints! O ȝeeld to my desire!
Vpon those traitours exercise ȝowr ire!
At heaven's dispose must passe the Stygian tide,
And after death enjoy that wished sight,
Ferry'd by Charon to the farther side,
Ȝit grant! O grant, whil flesh his ghost doth wrap,
Plague, sword and famine, be his surest hap!
Frome place to place persu'd, in saifty never.
Exil'd, in neid, butt any man's remorce,
Dissev'red from his only child for ever.
Imploring pitty, let him none obtaine;
But see his people with dishonour slaine.
Short be his reigne; soone may his dayes be spent.
And, whill he breathes, be never butt annoy;
But by vntimely death his powr prevent;
Syne rott on ground butt honour of a grave:
This I emplore, this with my blood I crave.
Deir people whose true love a life I fand!
This latest favor onely I require,
Let never love nor league betwixt ȝow stand!
O let mine ashes, after death, afford
One to destroy those clownes with fire and sword!
Let discord alwise, and debate domine!
Let shoare to shoare, let streame 'gainst streime, I pray,
And let owr ofspring ever armes reteine!”
Heir closing, deeply she doth now revolve,
What way she soonest may her life dissolve.
(Of purpose only to be left alone),
“Go, Barce! carefull nurse, direct thy cowrse
To Anna, pray her heir arive anone,
With waters purg't from each polluted thing,
Expiatory offrings caws her bring.
The rites intended now I minde to finish
To Stygian Jove, which must afford remead,
Whereby my cares may peice and piece diminish.”
With aged pase, this said, to haste enclin'd,
She stagg'ring foorth did show her fordward minde.
Her horrible attemptings to persue,
Rolling her eyes, which bloody did appeare,
And flaming sparkles of her fury showe,
With sorrow-tainted cheiks, and deadly hew),
Look't pale for horrour of the fact t'ensue.
The wodden heap she doth amount anone;
The haples sword she in her hand retain'd
Vnsheath'd, which once pertain'd to him was gone;
That cursed blaide, that instrument of death,
Ordained never to abridge her breath.
Th' acquainted cowtch and remnant weids did viewe,
Paussing, (now vtterly of life despair'd),
With gushing teares her breath a litle d[r]ew;
Syne tumbling on the bed, withowt moe words,
Thir latest speaches she, poore soull, affords:
Whil heavens above and dest'nyes did permitt,
That once, ah! once with ȝow my life I led,
Receive this soull, frome me which hence doth flitt,
This fleshly preson ready now to leave,
And of all earthly toyles ane end to have.
The race is runne, which Dest'nyes did designe;
And as the heavens my terme of life contrived,
Swa have I lived, accomplisht in my reigne.
So now this earthly shaddow goeth to grave;
So now at once this loathed lyf I leave.
Her staitly walls I floorishing did viewe;
My wrath vpon the prowd Pigmalion seas'd,
My lord Sicheus trait'rously who slewe.
Happy, (alace)! too happy had I beene,
If never Trojane ship my shoare had seene.”
“Die shall I,” sayes she, “and no vengeance finde?
Butt die thow must, faint Dido, boldly die:
Thus, thus my breath I render in the winde.
Now let the traitour viewe, though not regrate,
This flame, the presage of my present Fate.
Why trembles thow to be depriv'd of breath?
Oh coward hand! and art thow als dismay'd
To be the executioner of Death?
Though hands, though flesh doth faint, O fearles knife,
End thow my cares, and cut my threed of life!”
The cursed blaide but more her purpose brak,
Which in her breast vnto the hilts she strak,
Withowt remorse: O exsecrable fact!
The wepon, foaming in her luk-warme blood,
Maide open passage to the gushing flood.
On piercing sword, with armes abroad owthrow'ne,
Sprauling in paine, with blood begoared all,
Which freshly from her wonded breast was gone:
The skreigh is rais'd, with many rewfull cries,
The clamours great reverberat the skies.
Anone the streets with those sad newes ar fill'd;
The women wailing ȝeeld a pitteows mone,
Viewing their Princes and their lady kill'd.
Showts, sighs, smarte, sorow, all each where abound;
With hiddeows noyse the hallow hevens resownd.
The rageing en'my ent'red had the citty;
The bulwarks brave downe batt'red all with shott;
With dint of sword destroying all butt pitty.
Whate'ere occur'd made objects of their rage,
Regairdles both of sexe, of ȝowth, of age.
The buildings both of gods and men devore:
Whil rewfull cries of those who life require,
With dying groanes for pitty who emplore,
For rewth would rent a flinty heart a sunder:
Such were the clamoures through the air did thunder.
Confus'd and speachles, where the noyse was heard.
Faint, breathles, pale, astonisht, full of feare,
To see this rewfull object she appear'd;
Then, preissing through the throng, her call'd by name,
And oft, “Dear Dido! Dido!” did exclame.
To syle my sight, thy curs't designes to cloake?
Ah! wast for this the flame I built on hight?
To this intent or did the altars smoake?
Ah wretched wight, left now thyself alone!
Forsaken soull! what shall I first bemone?
That thow thine Anna hast at death debarr'd
To be thy convoy? to partake thy paine?
And reape with the the fruits of thy reward?
Hast thow despis'd thine only sister thus?
Such guerdon never was deserv'd of vs.
Had in one moment both bereft of breath.
But ah! and have thir hands, (O lasting shame!)
Prepair'd the flame, as guilty of thy death?
Call'd I my Gods at altars, prostrate lowe,
Alace! ȝit absent at thy last ov'rthrowe.
Thy citty, senate, kingdome and estate,
Each by one stroak destroy'd, with the do fall,
And perish all by thy abortive Fate.”
This said: her bleeding wounds she bath'd in haist,
And kyndly her in dying armes embract.
If any sponk of breath as ȝit remain'd,
The streaming teares her face did overflowe,
Whil as she, clasping in her armes, retain'd
Her half-dead sister, faintly drawing breath
In dead-throwe ent'ring at the gates of death.
(With soft though sad embraces oft bestowd),
Herself in such frequented bounds confin'd,
As mindefull of the favor Anna show'd,
To lift her eyes assay'd, but streight did faill:
Her heart fix't wounds presage a sad farewell.
Thrie times her body from the bed to rayse;
Three times she fainting tumbles downe againe,
Death on her senses ready now to seaze.
Three times she strove to see the cristall skies,
And three times clos'd again her gazing eyes.
Viewing this dead-lyve lover's toylsome end,
Her stormy breast compassion did relent,
And Iris quickly from the clouds did send
To calme the combat, and compoise the sight
Betwix her drossie flesh and ayrie spright.
Nor due deserved death her day prevent;
Both spightfull rage did antidate her death,
And turn'd the Glasse befor her howr was spent.
Her haires as ȝit Proserpine had not touch't,
Nor by such gift th' Elysian groaves enrich't.
The winged Iris cutts the cristall skies,
In thowsand colours shining 'gainst the Sunne,
Doth light at lenth where this poore patient lyes:
Syne off'ring vp her haires at Pluto's shryne,
“Leave, leave,” (quoth she), “this corps, O soule divine!”
The golden fleece clip't frome her head in haist.
The native heit her limmes abandon'd quite,
Then in ane instant, by cold death displac't,
Her breath expiring, ane eternall sleep
Did piece and piece vpon her senses creep.
A Spirituall Hymne.
or The Sacrifice of a Sinner To be offred upon the Altar of a humbled Heart to Christ our Redeemer. Inverted in English Sapphicks from the Latine of that Reverend, Religious, and Learned Divine, Mr Robert Boyd of Trochorege
Whose bountie's vn-exhausted spring
Doth to thy meanest members bring
Eternall streames of grace,
Give mee, (sweet Saviour,) Thee to sing
In holy hymnes, with heart condigne,
Which eating age, nor envyes sting
Shall in no time deface.
Blazing around thy Throne of light,
Outreaching farre my feeble sight,
Heere, in death's shade exylde,
Sin's clouds dispell, guilt's loade make light,
Which doth surcharge my fainting spright,
That I may spreade thy praise, thy might,
With heart pure, vndefyl'de.
Thou shouldst bee celebrate in feare.
Hence, yee vncleane, that darre appeare
With hands, with hearts prophaine.
O! let a Seraphim draw neare,
A flamming Coale whose hand doth beare,
My lips, my heart, from Heauen's high spheare
to purge from double staine.
By which thy crosses fruits do shyne,
To happie Life conducting Thyne,
my Thoughts by day, by night,
With meditation deepe consyne:
At morne, midday, my weake engyne,
While Heaven's clear Torch his course decline
shall in thy praise delight.
In all co-equall: man's dimme sight
Transcending: like thy paterne bright
An Other, and the Same:
True God of God, mild Maid-borne wight,
Blest Ladder, reaching earth aright,
Co-apting things of greatest hight
with lowe: Light's glorious beame.
Haven, where the shipwrakt shelter finde,
End of all toyles, Ease of the minde,
press'd downe with sinfull loade;
Reward of works due in no kinde
To conflict past, the Palme assignde,
Soules' cure, with sin's sore sicknesse pynde,
the banisht man's aboade.
Thy pledge who did the World repaire;
Arke, rendring Thine secure from care
of ouerflowing floods;
Their Crowne that sight, their pryze most rare
That sum: earth's peace, heauen's joy, hell's feare;
A saving Rock to thine, a snare
to such as sinne secludes.
Summe of the father's wisht-for sight,
Of Paradise the deare delight,
eternall Tree of life;
On source which watering day and night,
In foure cleare streames divided right,
Preserues, from yeares, from dayes despight,
but arte, or gardner's knife.
Thy face when Thou the vaile withdrew;
Of Types, of Shads, the body true;
Lambe, Altar, Priest at ones;
Lambe, kild before the World's first view;
Altar, which sinne inherent slew;
Priest, who in man did grace renew,
mounting alone heauen's Thrones.
Whose hand o're all the scepter swayes;
Who Angel's fall did stint, yet stayes;
man falne did raise againe.
Who filde the breach by wondrous wayes
Of Heauen's proud Apostats, hell's preyes,
Earthlings adornde with Angells' rayes,
'mongst the immortall traine:
Thee, in a servant's shape immurde,
To pittie man in sinne obdurde,
God's rebell to beefriend?
To pleade for him who thee abjurde,
Suffring thy Godhead lurke obscurde,
Last, on the Tree, (O Tears!) indurde
an ignominious end?
No other Meanes God's wrath could lay,
None else, could, (working death's decay,)
Man's Image first, infuse.
None else, Law's paine severe could pay;
Heauen's walls to scale no other way;
To vernish fresh graues rotten prey,
Means Thou alone couldst vse.
Whom highest honour doth invest,
For Man with paines extremly prest
by spoyles of conquer'd Hell,
Heaven's glorious courts had neere encrest:
Nor should our fleshes loade, to rest
Aboue the Spheares, its selfe addrest,
'midst heauen's blest hosts to dwell.
His hopelesse groanes, which so did boyle
Thy breast, that Thou pourd'st in the oyle
of Mercie in his wounds.
His Plaints procur'd thy soules turmoyle,
That Thou his lot didst take, to foyle
Sinne, Death and Hell, O Glorious spoyle!
which reason's ray confounds.
Empurp'ring thy vnstained face;
Thy clouds, thy care, our light, our peace,
Our Victorie thy listes;
Thy hels in heauen procurde vs place,
Our honour grew by thy disgrace;
O Wisedome! if not found by grace,
Man's wit involves in mists.
The deepest Polititan's sight
Oresyles, drownde in eternall night,
Jn clowdes of self-conceate!
O contrares! which by nature fight,
Thus reconcil'de, mix'd by thy might,
Things weightie ballancing with light,
O change! O wonders great!
Our teare-blind sights thy teares did cleare;
Thy deepe afflictions calmde our feare;
Thy bands vs fred from paine.
Thy wants our wealth procur'de; we weare
Roabs by thy rags; grieves thou didst beare,
Our greifes, our languishings en-deare,
thy blood did ours restraine.
Thy blessed face, with rayes ours crownde;
Sin's leprous spots, which soules confound,
from Parents' seede they purgde.
Thou, shak'd by death's approaching wound,
'gainst death mad'st vs secure be found,
Thou of our innocence the ground,
for vs, with guilt was vrgde.
Depriv'de from heauen of all supplie,
Yet banisht Man, still deare to Thee,
Thou neuer didst forsake.
Man's state was still before thine Eye,
Till entring Hell, Thou sett him free,
O Crosse once curst, now happie Tree,
Source whence all good wee take!
Nailde to the Crosse, exposde to blo's,
Chargde by thy proud insulting foes
with infamie, with shame;
Torne, naked, pale, a mappe of woes,
Whilst floods of wrath thou vndergoes,
Thy syde trans-fixde, from which forth floes
a double gushing streame;
While twixt two Theeues Thou didst expire;
Loe! then enlarging thine Jmpire,
Thy foes Thou Captiues led;
Triumphing on the Tree, hell's ire,
Death's sting, Earth's Kings that did conspire,
Bound, hand and foote, thy wrath's hote fyre
their shame before Thee bred.
Those bands, in darknesse that delight;
Roots of man's ruine, foes to right,
Sin, bound Thou didst detaine;
To Heauen's high courtes, a glorious sight,
God's Rebells vanquishde by thy might,
Condemnde in chains of horride night,
for euer to remaine.
Law's hand-writ there traverst, (death's spring,)
Trode vnderfoote, in triumph, bring
Thou didst, nail'd to thy crosse.
Thee, swallowing vp, (death conqu'ring King,)
Death to it selfe the graue did bring;
On rav'ning Wolfe preyde ravishde thing,
Victorious by losse.
Death's death Thou was, and death's remeed.
O! Thou who dost God's secreets spread,
Author, revealer wise,
Heauen's pure delight, the woman's seede,
Who, treading downe the Serpent's head,
To wretched Man didst pittie plead,
Way, leading to the Skyes!
Deare soules Redeemer? what our state?
Of ire what hudge, inunding spaite,
had quenchde our of-spring weake?
Without thee, Lord, hell's preys of late,
Who mongst thy saints didst vs relate,
And mounting heauens with glorie great,
deathes brazen barres didst breake?
When all shall be refinde with fire?
Who with thy Sp'rit dost vs inspire,
Arls of eternall Life?
Thy Sp'rit of peace, our pledge, our hyre,
Who, all vnites of thy empire
To Thee, our Head, our soules desire,
for ever shunning strife.
From snares; the World, the flesh forth send;
From Fiends infernall, which doe bend
theirs pow'rs 'gainst Thine, by night;
Which flie like pestes by day; in end
On winges, with faith and hope empen'd,
Heauen's starrie circuits wee transcend,
by vertue of his might.
With Father and with Sonne, the Same
Third branch, joynd with that twofold stream,
witnesse on earth to beare:
By him confirmde, wee accesse claime
To God's hie Throne: with feare and shame
Brought low, by him wee doe proclaime,
Abba, O Father deare!
Doth penetrat God's eares anone;
No wordes, no cryes can reach his throne,
nor speedier pierce the skies:
He doth vnsyle the eyes alone
Of soules sincere, to them is showne
The lawes hid sense: Hee doth enthrone
the lowe; the proud despise.
To wandring steps hee regresse gives;
The falne liftes vp, deathes throe's relieues,
by warme light of his flame.
The hardest heart of flint he reaves;
For subjects, Rebells home receiues;
Subdues the stubburne, that believes
no hardnesse breedes him shame.
Worke on weake sents, and doe dispell
All former loathings: So befell
Thy Saints, the Virgines deare:
How soone thy Name's sweet fragrant smell
Was powred foorth, all prostrate fell,
Who gainst Thee did before rebell,
Thy yoke now gladly beare.
Of thy sweet Oyle, that We in end
That Rocke of safetie may ascend
admitting no retreat.
Conduct vs who on thee depend,
( Life-giuing essence,) vs defend,
Who here our days in dangers spend,
which vs each moment meete.
Our Compasse, Pilote, Pole, who art,
Through this inhospitall desert,
this vaile of bitter teares,
Where perill lurkes in euerie part,
Where Asps their poys'nous stings forth dart,
Whose plaines no pleasures else impart,
but scrotching drought and feares.
Where milke and honey yeelds content.
O! euer blesse, with good event,
the wrestlings of thine owne,
Till, comming in the firmament,
Unlookt for by earth's trembling tent,
When time's last Period shall bee spent,
Thy glory thou make knowne.
Earth's refluous tumults, deathes pale feares,
O day, which neuer night outweares,
Night, by no day displac't!
Then, to the source flood's course reteires,
Time lurking then, no more appears,
Hid in the vast abysse of yeares,
from whence it first did haste.
To all, who vpright are in heart!
O day of horrour, full of smart,
to all of sprite impure!
Day, which shall sobs of saints convert
In songes of Joy! Day which shall dart
Wrath on the wretcht, who then shall start
wak'd from their sleepe secure!
That day, their ears, their souls, shall wound,
In sin's deepe Lethargie long drownde,
to heare a fearefull doome;
Whose noise, whose murmurings profound
Shall call, whate're earth's limits bound,
Or who in floods o'rewhelmde are found,
hid in the Ocean's wombe.
Jnvest'd yet with mortalitie,
Or whose dead ashes scattered flie,
dispersde through earth or aire;
This dayes sharpe tryall all must see,
If entered once lifes miserie,
Yea, babes, which scarce yet breathing bee,
must at this sound appeare.
Lightning thy glorious Throne around,
Whate're shall bee their object found,
in this inferiour Frame,
Shaking the World, ev'n to the ground,
Razde from its center, laid profound,
Dissolving what earth's fabricke crownde
with greatest Arte, or fame;
Starres losse their light, (earth's pride controld,)
What Earthlings did most precious hold,
records of wit, of strength,
Shall with this monument's rare mold
More quicklie melt than can bee told,
All this great All shall, (as of old,)
a Chaos turne at length.
Or such, God's wrath as vnderlyes,
Encrease the noise of rushing skies,
of earthes disjoynted frame,
Hee makes divorce that's only wise;
The damned goates hee doth despise;
Poynts out his lambes, whose sinfull dyes
hee purgde with bloody streame.
Thy Throne encircling, Thee draw neare,
As dayes comforting Beame, the spheare,
the Orbe of purest heauen;
The clouds transcending, shining cleare,
Thy footsteps streatched foorth to beare,
Those trembling bands shall streight reteare,
downe to the Center driven.
Of thy three-forked fearefull voyce,
Which streight their soules with sad annoyes,
with terrours strange shall pierce:
Hence, hence yee cursed! hell's convoyes,
Who of this Portion earst made choyse,
In chaines of darknesse end your Joyes,
amidst hell's furyes fierce.
From hope, from rest, from all delight,
Where wormes ne're dying, wrath and spight,
gnashing of teeth, and teares.
O! then, what horrour, what affright
Shall on those hopelesse prisners light,
Debarrde eternally his sight
who on the Throne appeares.
Mee, from this multitude seclude,
Affraide to see the raging flood,
of thy vnbounded ire:
Grant J may 'mongst thy blessed broode
Surfet vpon that heauenly foode
Of thy sweet face; the chiefest goode
Thyne haue, or can desire.
When laide in graue, may mee revive,
Raisde from deathes Jayle with thee to liue,
eternally above,
Joyes more than mortalls can belieue,
Contents, which thou alone canst giue,
Hid treasures, which no wrong can reave,
enjoying of thy loue.
With which heauen's tables charged are,
Which man's weake Eye, amazed Eare
nor Heart, can right conceave,
Things hid by his eternall care,
Who doth them for his Saintes prepare,
Who, gaining him, the fairest faire,
they All in all things have.
This World's false shew our sight eschued,
Whose face and countenance renewde
shall more delightfull seeme,
Thou, who with grace thy Saintes indued,
Whose shield them from this wrath rescued,
Transport mee thither, all bedewed
with blood did mee redeeme.
Attractive loadstone, full of might,
Jnflamt by thy transpeircing sight,
there draw my heatlesse heart;
Winge my desires, that raisde on hight,
I may arriue by heauenly flight
There, where's no feare of ill, no spight,
but blesse, without desart.
Three vndivided Trinall One!
Joynde with thy Saynts about thy Throne,
in hymnes not made by Men.
Grant this sweet Sauiour, Thou alone
Crowne these desires, here to Thee showne,
As to its end this raptur's flowne,
Sweet Jesu, say Amen.
Doomesday
containing Hells horrour and Heavens happinesse
Forbearing pressed steppes to trace,
Aspires aboue the vulgar prease,
to raise a second flight.
I feele my bosome, peece and peece,
Warmde with vnusuall flammes: Giue place
Eare-charming fancies, Artes disgrace,
affoording false delight.
Wings, furnish to my weake engine,
If Thou, O Lord, the Horne of Thine
in mee, this Rapture wrought.
Bee present by thy power divine,
Grant in my lines thy might may shyne,
From drosse of sinne my sprite refine,
raise from the earth my thought.
Affrighted soule, deprivde of rest?
What sudden feares thy joyes molest?
what jarres disturbe thy peace?
Why tremblest thou, with terrours prest,
To heare that fearefull doome exprest
By that great Judge, who euer blest,
is just, as full of grace?
Thy selfe this judgement to prevent:
No moment of our time is spent,
which thither doth not lead.
The dangers seene which doe torment
Thy troubled mind with discontent,
Gainst them let fervent sutes be sent,
Immunitie to plead.
Which too much of thy time makes prey.
Lay vp provision for that Day
there boldlie to arriue,
Where Reprobats, accurst for aye,
Shall wish in vaine their lifes decay,
That earth would to their soules make way,
them swallowing vp aliue.
Twixt soules from darknesse chaines set free,
And bodies, mates in miserie,
calde foorth to bee combynd,
Not for reciprocall supplie,
As friends new joynde in amitie,
But neuer dying, aye to die,
in quenchlesse flammes confynde.
Scout, following sin with stretched sayle,
Which fleeting froaths, which pleasures fraile,
on Rocke of shipwrack led.
Maske of mischiefe, sin's slender vaile,
Good Motions euer bent to quaile,
Which in the birth thou didst assaile,
them burying as they bred.
Whom Hell attends with open throate,
Readie to retribute the lote
to thy deservings due.
Oh! what hath violate death's knot,
That still in graue thou didst not rot,
Masse overspred with sin's foule spot,
raisde anguish to renue.
Re-entring this abhorred Iayle,
Which recombyned, while both bevaile
Life's misgoverned raines.
Then Angels shall to Judgement haile,
There, whence no party can appeale,
To heare deathe's sentence countervaile,
Lyfe's Ioyes, with endlesse paines.
Whom false securitie betrayes,
Who ne're thy Sins' blacke summe surveyes,
which future anguish breedes.
Then shall the Auncient of dayes,
Who all men's works in ballance layes,
Examine all thy wordes, thy wayes,
thy thoughts, thy foule misdeeds.
From bookes laide open to the view
A summar processe shall ensew,
conforme to thy trespasse.
Thy sins all summond, Thee which slew,
Approving thy damnation due,
When all the blest cœlestiall crew
shall on thee verdict passe.
What shame, what smart, (lif's pleasures gone,)
Shall on thee seaze, when gazde vpon
By earth, by angrie heauen?
When naked, comfortlesse, alone,
Thou trembling stands before the Throne,
Under God's wrath, guilt's loade doth grone,
Feares with thy faults made eaven.
Thou guiltie stands that Iudge beforne,
Whose Image did thy soule adorne,
who did infuse thy breath.
Who, pittying thee to sin forlorne,
Left heauens, was of an earthling borne,
Liude loth'd, dyde with contempt and scorne,
Emptyed the Cup of wrath.
Dayes beame, which all in clouds detaines,
The silver Moone, which pale remaines,
For horrour of the sight.
Witnesse his hands, with bleeding veines,
Of this great All which holds the raines,
His side pierc't through to purge thy staines,
Polluted sinfull wight.
Soule, than the sightlesse Mole more blinde,
When with those straits extreame confynd,
Faint, pale, confusde thou stands?
By doome which cannot bee declinde,
Adjugde for euer to be pinde,
Where day nere dawnde, Sunne neuer shinde,
Mongst the infernall bands.
On either hand in desp'rate cace,
Behinde thee, who thy pathes did trace,
Attend thy woefull lote.
Before thee, flamms Earth's frame deface,
Aboue, an angrie Judge's face,
Below, Thee gaping to embrace,
Hell's sulphure-smoking throat.
Of damned Soules, with anguish prest,
With greife, with horrour vnexprest,
Of due deserved ire.
The fyre-brands of a conscious brest,
Shall of thy terrours not be least,
While worms, which on thy conscience feast,
Thy ceaselesse paine conspire.
That separating doome, Depart,
Pronounc'd, shall pierce thy panting heart,
With a most fearefull knell,
Which shall thee from God's presence part,
Exposde to torments that impart
Nor end of time, nor ease of smart,
While headlongs hurld in hell.
Still sinke but never meete a ground,
In waves still wrestling to bee drownd,
Deluded still by death;
Crying, where comfort none is found,
Pynde, where no pittie rage doth bound,
Thy Cup with floods of vengeance crownde,
Of the Almightie's wrath;
Paine still encressing, ne're remisse,
Where scorpion's sting, where serpent's hisse,
Wormes, neuer satiate, gnaw;
Rackt, thinking what thou was, now is,
Deprivde for aye from hope of blisse,
For toyes, eternall joy didst misse,
Nor crub't by love, nor aw,
Heere all the members to offend,
Which Vniversall griefe doth send,
Doth every part entrinch:
These paines, which reason's reach transcend,
On Soule and body doth descend,
No joynt, nerve, muscle, without end
But sev'rall plagues doe pinch.
Which earst did entertaine thy sight,
Weepe, there exylde in endlesse night,
Lockt vp in horride shads.
Nyce Eare, whose Organ earst did spight
All sounds, whence flowde no fals delight,
There, horrour ever and affright,
Thy curious sense vpbraids.
Still interchangde to please thy sent,
For incense, sulphure, (there) doth vent,
Smoake for thy odoures sweet.
Taste, vnto which to breed content,
Rob't were the Earth, Sea, Firmament,
'Mongst soules which penurie torment,
There, famine Thee doth meete.
The weakest sunshine scarce couldst byde,
There, plungde in this impetuous tyde,
Must feele the force of fire.
Where damned soules on every syde,
Howling and roaring still abyde,
Which finde no shelter them to hyde
From this eternall ire.
Did, (late,) on wax-joynde winges arise,
Of base contempt is made the pryse,
The Proudling pestred downe.
There Dives, who did earst despise
Of famisht soules the piercing cries,
Shall one cold drop of water pryse
Aboue a Monarche's crowne.
Whom lawlesse lust did earst besotte,
Enchainde in the embracements hotte
Of furious raging flames.
There, to the drunkard's parched throate,
Justice doth scrotching drought allote,
In floods of fire, which judgde to floate,
Still vaine refreshment claimes.
Shall equall weight of vengeance light
With byting vsurie, with spight,
The poore ones who did presse.
So, to the remnant that did fight
'Gainst heauen's decrees, their conscience light,
God's wrath shall bee proportionde right,
By measure more or lesse.
Heere, suff'ring for thy sins' foule staynes,
Flammes, lashing whips, rackes, fyrie chaynes,
Tormenting outward sense.
Of all, most terrible remaines,
Losse of God's face while thou sustaines,
O hell of hell! O paine of paines!
Still to be banisht thence.
Those tortures felt, as shyne in sphears
Lights, fixed and straying, eyes haue teares,
Or waves the azure plaine,
No nearer are their end those feares,
Ever beginning which thou beares,
No change abates, no date outweares
Thy euer pinching paine.
O stinging fyre, blowne by God's breath!
O boyling lake no ground which hath,
Destroying nought it burnes!
O overflowing flood of wrath,
Which damned soules are drencht beneath!
O pit profound! O woefull path
Whence Entrer ne're returnes!
Who pittying man's most wretched cace,
Didst hellish agonies embrace
In soule, in bodie shame,
Let mee in those extreames finde grace,
Illightned by thy glorious face,
Rank't 'mongst thy Saints, the elect race,
Whose wayes Thou didst proclaime!
Unto my soule, which full of dread,
Hanges ouer Hell by life's fraile threed,
Conservde but by thy might;
That when heauens, whence it did proceed,
Its separation haue decreed,
With Noah's Doue, Thou mayst it lead
There, whence it first tooke flight.
(Secure from sin's contagious dyes,)
Endenizde citizen of skies
With Thee for aye to rest!
O, how it doth the Jayle despise,
In fleshes fetters it which tyes,
And lets it to enjoy the pryse,
With which thy Saints are blest!
Pure source of life, who guides faith's wing,
By flight to reach the hyest thing,
To compasse things most hard.
When shalt Thou mee from danger bring
To Port of peace? my God! my King!
Blest giver, and the gifted thing?
Rewarder, and reward?
My native home, my country see?
When one immortal pineons flie?
That holy Citie reach,
Whose streets pure gold, gold buildings bee,
Walls, stones most precious beautifie,
Ports, solide Pearles, Guests neuer die,
Whose peace no paines empeach?
This climate constant makes alone,
Nor flamming heate, nor frozen Zone
Distemper heere doe breed.
From Lambe's sweet breath, on glorie's throne
Enstalde, are balmie odours throwne,
Time hath no turnes, heere change is none,
No seasons doe succeed.
Nor death, nor danger heere affright,
Heere hopes, nor feares, nor false delight,
In sublunarie toyes.
No Lampe dartes foorth alternat light,
The Lambe's sweet face here shines ay bright,
Which of the Saints doth blesse the sight,
Who doe in him rejoyse.
Rose-cheeked youth, old age's dart,
Joye's perpetuitie impart,
No warre disturbs this peace.
O! this God's Palace royall arte,
Preparde in these, with all desart,
For all that vpright are in heart,
Ere light did paynt heaven's face.
Earth's hanging orbe who dost vphold,
Great Architect, King vncontrold,
Lord of this Universe,
Enstalde heere on a Throne of gold,
Dost diamantine scepter hold,
Givest Lawes to earth, hence dost behold
How wights below converse!
Amazing beauties, choise delights,
This Mansion low, of dying wights,
Earth's brittle orbe adorne,
What wonders then, what glorious lights,
Must beautifie those reachlesse hights,
Thy blest aboade, which daye's, which night's
Vicissitude doth scorne?
What Thou, who did'st heauen's Curtain spread,
Earth stayde midst aire, that it doth neede
Its weight nought to sustaine,
Who full of Majestie and dread,
Of intellectuall pow'rs dost plead
Attendance, on thy face which feede?
O ever blessed traine!
Thrones, Cherubs, Seraphins of light,
Princes and Powers all shining bright,
Dominions, vertues pure,
With beames that sparkle from the sight,
Inflamde, which flie no other flight,
But satiat rest, rapt with delight,
Which doth for aye endure!
They, who these orders haue encreast,
From labour free, in peace who rest,
Surpassing humane sense?
Where blesse, where glory doth invest
Apostles, Martyres and the rest
Of holy Saints, with tortures prest
To death, in Trueth's defence.
(Cleare starres on earth,) bright suns here shine.
Heere all the elect hoast, deathe's line
Which yet haue ouerpast.
Jncorp'rat in their Head, incline
One way, Joyes common all combine,
This band no discord can vntwine,
Loue doth eternall last.
Degrees there are, but no defect,
Full vessells all, none can expect
More than the lest containes.
Man's heart no pleasure can project,
But greater doth from hence reflect,
One cause in all workes one effect,
Of measure none complaines.
Upwards, aboue the spheares to spring,
(Time's Father) where thy praises ring,
Which Saints, which Angels raise:
Where all around Thee in a ring,
Heau'ns hoasts high Allelujahs sing,
O heavenly consort! Blessed King!
Blest people, Thee who praise!
With owlish eyes can view this light,
The meake horizon of Man's sight,
Farre, farre which doth outreach.
This vnexpressible delight,
Doth reason's dazelde eye benight,
What I cannot conceiue aright,
Lord, let experience teach!
(While fleshe's bands my sprite enthrall)
J may, a farre, a glance let fall,
At these contentments poynt,
These termlesse Joyes which, (one day,) shall
In honny turne Saints' bitter gall,
From guilt, when flamms shall purge this Ball,
This Engine hudge disjoynt.
The graues pale guests, the World amaze,
Around all burning in a blaze,
Suffring for man's offence,
What Joyes, then, sleeping Saints shall seaze,
How much this long-longde sight them please,
This sight, death's fetters which shall ease,
All passed cares compense?
How glorious shall this day appeare
To thee my Soule, when fred from feare,
Grimme death thou darst outface?
When, (thy redemption drawing neare,)
Life's toyles shall trophees to Thee reare,
Which cank'ring Tyme shall ne'er outweare,
Nor foes' despight deface.
In furious flammes thy carcase thrust,
Not daigning It to earth to trust
With honour of a graue.
No Atome of thy scattered dust
But see this solemne Meeting must,
Purgde from corruption, from rust
Of sinne did It depraue;
Than when it entred deathes darke shade,
Raisde by his viuifying aide,
Death's powres who did controule;
With flesh adornde, which ne're shall fade,
Nor rotte, in earthe's cold bosome laide,
But liue for aye, the Mansion glade
Of a Triumphing soule.
Did ravish most amazed sight,
Which, as farre short from day as night
From This, shall not be found,
Which shall adorne each new-borne wight,
Co-partner of this hid delight,
The lame shall leape, proportionde right,
The dumbe God's praises sound,
To aire this stage which ouerhings,
To meete thy Head, the Saints who brings
To judge the damned traine.
(Saints, earst accounted abject things,
Objects of scorne, weake underlings,
On thrones enstalde, now sceptred kings
Eternally who reigne.)
Shall make the Heauens with hymnes rebound,
That Thou, a straggling sheepe, art found,
Their numbers to encrease?
If they did such applauses sound
At thy conversion, how profound
Shall be their Joyes to see thee crownd,
With them to acquiesse?
Wearie and weake, with famine prest,
Whom feare of Robbers doth infest,
Straying alone, in need,
If Hee, while dreaming least of rest,
Should in an instant bee addrest,
Where hee might live for ever blest,
How should his Joyes exceed?
Too easily seduc't astray,
When Thou shalt find this solide stay,
This Center of repose,
How shall the pleasures of this day,
Adorning Thee with rich array,
Thy suffred labours all delay,
Afflictions all compose?
Shall quench all paines, all passed plight,
Endured wrongs, digested spight
Of tyrannizing pride,
By Angels, Messengers of light,
When brought in thy Redeemer's sight,
Set free from deathe's eternall night,
Adjudg't, in blesse to byde?
The meanest good thou didst afford,
To poore, to sicke: when deed, nor word,
Shall want the owne rewarde?
The Judge, thy Advocate, thy Lord,
Who now absolues, Thee, first restorde:
O bond! O double-twisted cord!
O vndeserved regard!
Thy voyage dangerous espyes,
Foes and ambushments, laide to surprise
Thy wayes, when thou dost vieu;
The traines set foorth Thee to entise,
Base pleasures, which Thou didst despise,
What boundlesse joyes shall thence arise,
What Solace sweet ensue?
When Saints doe shout, when Angels sing,
When Heauen's hie vaults loud Ecchos ring,
Of that Absoluing voyce?
Come yee, whose faith did vpwards spring,
Contempt who on the World did fling,
Blest of that great Sky-ruling King,
Enter in endlesse Ioyes.
To Man which to conceiue are given,
As loftiest of the Planets seven
Earth's Center doth transcend!
(By wit, who prease to pry in heauen,
Backe by a Cherubin is driven,)
Man's Reason is a vessell riven,
Can litle comprehend.
As day's bright Beam the weakest light,
Aboue small Gnats as Eagles' flight
Amidst the Clouds ensphearde!
Ioyes, as farre passing all delight
Yet euer heard by humane wight,
As ghastly screiches of Owles which fright,
With Larks' sweet layes comparde!
In this claims principally place,
To see God clearely, face to face,
Him, as He is, to view.
(Not heere, as doth fraile Adam's race,
Who through a glasse this sight embrace,
And steps of things created trace,
To reach these pleasures trew.)
These Persons three, in essence One,
God varying in names alone,
Father, Sonne, holy Ghost.
To know why Man, to lewdnesse prone,
(Angels o'repast) God did repone
In state of grace, why mercy showne
To some while damnde are Most.
On Soules and bodies both reflect,
By ravishing the Intellect,
The Memory and Will;
Which all the Senses doe affect,
With pleasures farre aboue defect,
Who can the rich contents detect,
Those blessed Bands which fill?
(Sequestred from mortalitie,)
The Understanding facultie,
How prompter it perceiues!
How more sublime the Object bee,
The Union inward and more nie:
Joyes of a more supreme degrie
The Intellect conceaues!
We apprehend by Organs roode,
The drossie mindes of Earth's weake broode
Imaginde knowledge swells:
There, bathing in a boundlesse floode
Of blesse, we shall, (as sprites which stoode)
Know, (vnpuft vp) our Soueraigne goode,
In him, all creatures els.
In glorie, majestie, in might,
This paralell, whence all delight,
All pleasure only springs?
With rayes of vncreated light
Which cherish, not offend the sight,
Who shines most blest, for euer bright,
Eternall King of Kings.
So firme, successionlesse, profound?
Man's deepest speculation drown'd
Is in this vast abisse.
This gulfe, this Ocean without ground,
The ravisht minde doth wholly bound,
It drencht heerein, with glorie crownd,
Bathes in a Sea of blesse.
In mindes of wonder-strucken wights,
Doe moue such violent delights
As passe the bounds of speach,
The Joyes then midst these reachlesse hights,
Ay bright with euer-burning lights,
Must farre transcend the loftiest flights,
Wits most profound can reach.
From things corruptible arise,
No Union, but externall, ties
The sense and object fraile.
How should wee then these pleasures prise,
Which euer laste aboue the skies?
This Union strict all change defies,
This bonde can neuer faile.
Of Ioy, the Intellect shall seaze,
When It, with cleare, vnsyled eyes,
The speces, natures, strength,
Of beastes, of birds, of stones, of trees,
Of hearbes, the hid proprieties,
Th' essentiall differences sees
Of Creatures all at length?
Inunding this Theater great,
Drench with delight shall euery state
Here marshalled above?
Till now, euen from the World's first date,
When Saints secure from sin's deceate,
Their Palmes, their Crownes receiue, who late
Earth's vtmost spight did prove.
The torments which the damn'd sustain,
The cryms which earst their soules did staine,
Impare these joyes divine!
These blacke Characters show most plaine
God's justice, their deserved bane,
The brightnesse of the blessed traine
Opposde, now cleare doth shine.
(Heaven's blesse comparde with hel's annoyes,)
As earst by regal Prophet's voice,
Divinely was fore-told.
Saintes should, incompassed with Joys,
Bathe in their blood, whom death destroyes,
Happie, who so his life employes
'Mongst Saints to bee enrold.
The punishment with vertuous minde,
The fault with the rewarde combinde,
At which the Just repines.
There, fault with punishment confinde,
Rewarde, to vertuously inclinde,
Eternall justice vndeclinde,
Impartially assignes.
The Understanding doe invest,
As in the Center of its rest,
So heere, the Will doth pause
In peace, which cannot bee encrest,
Not wrestling passions to digest;
O calme tranquillitie! how blest
They whom this loadstone drawes.
To God, to all the Saints aboue,
That not one ioy these hoasts do proue
Which It doe not delight.
Hence It no fewer joyes doe moue,
Then God, Co-partners doth approue,
Joyes infinite, which ne're remoue,
Nor weakned are by slight.
This doe not feele their meanest paine,
With mates most hated to remaine
For ay, by just decreite:
How happie then, this glorious traine,
With these eternally to raigne,
Who mutuall loue doe entertaine,
Insep'rable vnite!
A sympathizing sweet concent,
Satietie, which vnacquent
With loathing, doth arise.
Man heere in earth's ignoble tent,
Desires vnbounded still torment,
The more hee hath, the more is bent,
Things fading to comprise.
To inward feares, to outward foes,
Deluded by deceaving shows,
With shads of seeming blesse,
When with content thy Cup oreflows,
When hopes nor vast desires thou knowes,
How deare shall bee this sweet repose
Which aye beginning is!
Man's vnderstanding which transcends,
To Thee alone our labour tends,
Our Pilgrimage aspires.
Happie in Thee his life who spends,
In Joy, in peace which never ends,
To present Toyles which solace sends,
Encentring our desires.
Of Joy shall to the Will accresse,
Out-shining Adam's righteousnesse
In innocent estate?
(But O! this Joy who can expresse?
Not tongues of angels, Man's much lesse,
O ravisht Soule! heere acquiesse,
Drencht in this Ocean great.)
Did serve this God; but changeable
Was this submission; now, but still
All doe themselves subject
To God; by bonde most durable,
Fearing no fall, secure from ill,
Rendring the soule most am'able
To God, selfe, Saints elect.
Which stinging thoughts, mind's horrors teare,
Thy wounded sprite who canst not beare,
With inward terrours torne!
O how invaluable, how deare,
Would this integritie sincere
To Thee, (in conscience rackt) appeare,
Which doth the saints adorne!
All spots, polluting earth's fraile broode,
Pure, vndistainde, perfectly good,
Free from least sinfull thought:
Saintes aye refreshing with that food
Of God's wingde messengers, which stood
Confirmde in grace by purple floode,
Which Man's redemption wrought.
To Memory of Saints present,
How life's small period heere was spent,
Encompassed with cares.
From warres most pittifull event
If settled, sweetest peace is spent,
The Soule, which earst did most lament,
Joyes most, now fred of teares.
The souldier doth with joye relate.
The sea-tosde wight, in dangers great,
If gone, most pleasure finds.
Past miseries inunding spaite
Most sweetens Saint's triumphing state,
Foes spoyles, which no invasion threat,
Lesse ravish noble Minds.
Their purest parts which did bespotte,
Strugling, as exhalations hote
In humide clouds inclosde;
From flight of dartes, the World foorth shot,
(Entisements which the best besotte,)
While these in their remembrance float,
How much are they rejoysde?
How God, by his preventing grace,
Our steps restrainde, whilst we did trace
The tempting paths of death;
Of monstruous Sinnes in hottest chace,
How Hee in loue did us embrace;
In this to joye, Saints ne'ere shall cease,
While they in blesse doe breath.
Of Times, the Memory endeares,
Since World's first Age, aboue the spheares,
Of blest celestiall bands.
Which, while this Companie admires,
Cause of these changes, cleare appeares
In Prouidence large book, which beares
Records of Seas, of Lands.
Why Angels first, first Man did fall,
Why God did this, nor These recall,
Of his eternall grace.
Why Hee did Abram's seede enstall,
Peculiar most of nations all,
And why to, Gentiles, these made thrall,
Were planted in their place.
Why dearest Saints are trode to ground
By Tyrant's pryde, to which no bound
Oft is below assignde.
To wit, more glorious to bee crown'd,
As their affection did abound,
Joyes may proportionall redound,
As crosses them confinde.
The fellow souldier of the spright,
Bee frustrat of these Joyes, by right
Of its redemption due.
Of all, the noblest sense, the sight
Impassible, not harmde by light,
Aboue all measure shall delight,
Amazde with wonders new.
When Suns past number doe appeare?
Dark'ning that sparke, our hemispheare,
Which cleeres with chearefull rayes?
On all hands, Nought, when farre and neare,
Encounters sight but objects cleare,
Blest Empyrean bands, which weare
Crowns, Palmes, immortall bayes?
How on this glorie shall wee gaze?
How on our bodies, which doe blaze
With brightest beames of light?
Our bodies, which ere death did seaze,
(Death, which no prayers can appease)
Most loathsome burthens were to these
Whom most they now delight.
To see falne Angels' chayrs of state
Filde with our friends, familiars late,
Love long dissolvde, renewde?
To see, to know, (O wonder great!)
Saints all, all times did heere relate,
Since Abel's blood, (a long long date,)
His brother's hands imbrued?
When broght to nought this world's false shew,
Of Heauen, of earth, the fabricke new
What wonders shall afford?
Things which before wee never knew,
Charming our euer-gazing view,
With pleasures endlesse, perfect, true,
Which tongue cannot record.
Can with thy sight, O Christ, compare.
Fulnesse of Joy reflecteth there
On these at thy right hand.
In Righteousnesse thy face preclare
Who viewing satisfied are,
For which a place Thou didst prepare
Before Thy throne to stand.
Record of Thee sent foorth to bring,
For Joy, did in thy presence spring,
An Embrion yet vnborne.
If yet a babe, thy sight benigne
So Simeon's soule with joy did sting,
That hee his Obsequies did sing,
With age and weaknesse worne.
By Pilgrims' toyles, thy sight to gaine,
An infant, borne but to bee slaine,
In manger meanlie laide;
What soule then can these joyes containe
Which shall arise to see Thy raigne,
The glory of thy heauenlie traine,
Whose pompe shall never fade?
A consort sweet my sense betrayes,
By organs of mine Eare, allayes
All mind-remording cares.
Aboue time, motion, place, which raise
My ravisht thoughts, to heare his praise
Proclaimde which heauen's blest hosts amaze,
By notes of Angels' ayres.
Of which the hopes ease present smart;
Thrise happie they who beare a part
In this cœlestiall Quire.
O blest Musitians most expert,
Whose Ditties all delight impart,
Whose hymnes exhilarate the heart,
And entertaine the Eare!
(Heaven's dainties hid in heathnish names,)
An endlesse feast the Lambe proclaimes,
To all the Saints above.
The Saints refresht more with his beames
Then worldlings with vaine pleasures dreams,
O how desiderable seemes
To Thine, this feast of Love!
At tables of great Kings to feast,
With curious cates to please their taste,
With choise of rarest things:
O! what a heavenly sweet repast
Doe Saints enjoy, which aye shall last,
Who at immortall Tables plac't,
Feast with the King of Kings.
This Paradise of sweet content,
Perfumes most rare refresh the sent,
From a perpetuall spring.
Comforting oynments odours vent,
Sweet'ning the heauens' transparent tent,
Which flow from him his blood who spent
His to blesse to bring.
In feeling als enjoy delight,
The Body changde, spirituall light,
Apt euery way to moue;
Nimble, as thought, to reach by flight,
(Unwearied,) heauen's supremest hight,
The Center low, from Zenith bright,
As It the Minde doth move.
If thus endangered to bee lost,
The feeling sense, affected most
Participats most paine:
What Joyes (to view this numbrous host)
The Elementar regions crost,
When both vnharm'd throgh heauen's way post,
Shall then this sense sustaine?
If Colick paines invade, (health's foes,)
These torments Feeling vndergoes,
Most sensible of griefe,
Now when sequestred from those woes,
Which marre lifes vnsecure repose,
How shall this sense, set free, rejoyse,
Exult at its reliefe?
A Pilgrimage doth enterpryse,
O're Atlas' tops, which hid in skies,
Crownde are with Winter glasse:
Hudge Mountains past while hee espyes,
Impenetrable Rockes arise,
Forc't to retire, his course applyes
By smoother paths to passe.
Steps not by Nature reacht, to trace,
The clowds to climbe with halting pace
Lets infinite impeach.
Those reachlesse Ioyes, this boundlesse peace,
In number, measure, weight, encrease:
That scarce begunne, my song must cease,
These hights transcend my reach.
FANCIES FAREWELL
Son. 1.
[Too long, my Muse, (ah) thou too long didst toile]
Too long, my Muse, (ah) thou too long didst toile,An Æthiopian striving to make white;
Lost seede on furrowes of a fruitlesse soile,
Which doth thy trauells but with Tares acquite.
Hence-foorth fare-well all counterfeit delyte,
Blinde Dwarfling, I disclaime thy deitie,
My Pen thy Trophees neuer more shall write:
Nor after shall thine arts enveigle mee.
With sacred straines, reaching a higher key,
My Thoughts aboue thy fictions farre aspire:
Mounted on wings of immortalitie,
I feele my brest warmde with a wountless fire.
My Muse a strange enthusiasme inspires,
And peece and peece thy flamme in smoake expires.
Son. 2.
[Houres mis-employed, evanisht as a dreame]
Houres mis-employed, evanisht as a dreame,My lapse from Vertue and recourse to Ill,
I should, I would, I dare not say I will,
By due repentance and remorse redeeme.
Love's false delight and beautees blazing beame
Too long benighted haue my dazled eyes.
By Youth misled, I too too much did prise
Deceaving shads, toyes worthy no esteame.
Plungde in the tyde of that impetuous streame,
Where fynest wits haue frequent naufrage made.
O heavenly Pilote, I implore thine aide!
Rescue my Soule, in danger most extreame:
Conduct mee to thy Mercyes Port, I pray,
Save Lord; oh let mee not bee cast away!
Sonnet 3.
[Looke home my Soule, deferre not to repent]
Looke home my Soule, deferre not to repent,Time euer runnes: in sloath great dangers ly:
Impostumde soares the patient most torment,
While wounds are greene the salve with speed apply,
Workes once adjourn'd good successe seldome try,
Delay's attended still with discontent:
Thrise happie hee takes time ere time slyde by
And doth by fore-sight after-wit prevent.
Look on thy labours: timouslie lament:
Trees are hewde down vnwholesome fruits bring foorth.
Thy younger yeares, youthes sweet Aprile mispent,
Strive to redeeme with works of greater worth.
Looke home, I say, make haste: O shunne delay:
Hoyse sayle while tyde doth last: Time posts away.
THE Trve Crvcifixe for True Catholickes
or The way for true Catholickes to have the trve Crvcifixe
My doubt remoue by satisfaction just,
But muse I could not, how from time to time,
Man, ( but a masse of animated slime,
A cloud of dust, tos'd by vncertaine breath,
A wormeling weake, soone to stoupe downe to death,)
Durst bee so bold, his pow'r as to enlarge;
And (proudly vilipending God's discharge)
A frantick freedome to himselfe durst take,
An Image for religious vse to make.
And now I can not halfe enough admire,
How fondlings ( daring offer vncouth fire)
The naughtie issue of a noysome seed.
Like errour yet should to lyke madnesse lead,
Christ of his honour due induc't to reaue
Vnto their owne inventions, it to giue
A peece of abject waxe, clos'd in a clout,
For God's lamb, blushing not to beare about:
Nor (sense distracted) Christ's owne proper stile,
The Crucifixe, forbearing to defile,
It attributing to their Christs of drosse,
(A man's faind shape, fix'd on a fancied crosse)
To crucified Christ Jesus, only due.
Saue Christ. Sonne of the living God alone:
This crucifixe of His, our God, our Lord,
By all should be obey'd, serv'd, lov'd, ador'd.
Our harts for Him, whose heart for vs did bleed,
A rowme should bee to rest in, and reside.
Wee liue to Him, who chusd for vs to die.
His image in our lyfe we all should beare,
Walking as Hee, pure, innocent, sincere,
Our flesh, our soule affections mortifying
Heere, to be His for ay, our selues denying.
Readie for Him, with each thing els to twinne
Wee labour should, while heere wee borrow breath,
In bleeding hearts to beare about his death.
Our dayly task should bee on Him to looke;
To search the Scripturs, which of Him record,
And crucified before our eyes afford.
His Sacraments, means which Himselfe did grant,
And Registred left in His latter will,
His death to keepe in fresh remembrance still:
And with a longing soule and listening eare,
The Gospell's joyfull tidings bent to heare,
Such wee should bee, as knowledge all hold vaine
Saue Christ to know, and for our sinnes Him slaine.
Which misbeliefe and ignorance not clos'd,
Thus may wee all Him by faith's piercing eye
In Glasse of his owne institutions see;
Thus bee preseru'd from following Christ-lings vaine
Shewd in the juggling trickes of wits prophane,
No doubt but chosen soules are not a few;
To whom cleare eyes God once to see will giue,
As others, who did in like error liue,
That meanes none els, Christ's knowledge can afford,
But such, himselfe hath stablisht in his word.
Those simple soules I beare which thee affect,
And faine would find thee, but astray are ledde,
With vaine inventions in man's fancie bredde,
Who searching thee, cast in a curious mold
Of baser mettle, or of purest gold,
Worship to thee, vnwarranted allow,
And basely to a lying idole bow,
Intending thus to impetrat thy peace
Doe loade themselues with sin, thee with disgrace
To such, a better pourtrate wish I must;
Which to draw foorth, Lord furnish me with airt,
Bee thou my Patrone, who my patterne art;
My hand, my pinsell, let thy Spirit guide,
That (all humane respects farre laide aside)
Free from presumption curiously to trace
Each subtile line of thy Immortall face.
Thee shaddowing foorth, my draughts may not debord
From sacred mirror of thy sauing word.
Still leade mee with the Lanterne of thy light,
That with thy loue enflam'd, I may with feare,
Thee in that Glorious mirror still admire:
Where, to our measure, Thee abridg't we haue,
Of Thee at least sufficient truth to saue.
Yet so that what thou to reueale hast dain'd,
A part can bee but of that part attain'd
Some more, some lesse, none fully can acquire:
The soberest measure, euen the least of all
If thou vouchsafe, Lord serue my purpose shall.
His onely chiefest good, which most doe misse,
By combination of eternall bands,
In his Communion with his Maker stands.
The Soule our better halfe to God bee bound,
To him conjoynd, before our Bodie's loade
Can bee admitted to his blest aboade.
So needfull is, to man ere sinne hee knewe,
That life it was his God to know aright:
Now life eternall is, since put to flight
By disobedience, truly God to knowe,
And Christ his Sonne, the source whence life doth flowe.
God's Rebell Sathan, man's malicious foe,
Debard from grace, since first by pride brought low;
Depriud of happinesse, exild from Heaven,
Hopelesse to be restor'd, to darkenesse driven,
In malice set, by subtiltie and slight
Man's happinesse to marre with all his might,
Him from his God, and Soveraigne good to part,
Striues, of his God the knowledge to pervert.
A light too glorious to haue beene abus'd,
A Heavenly knowledge (forefault by his fall)
Both of himselfe and things created all;
In which faire volume Man might dayly looke,
And exercise his witts, as in a Booke,
God's boundlesse pow'r, his wisdome infinite.
By greater knowledge to vnsile His sight;
(For yet his eyes had still beene closde to ill,
No wicked thoughts perverted had his will);
Did vnawarres thus worke his ouerthrow,
Sinne making him at once commit and know.
Himselfe from grace, lost God, his chiefest good,
But guiltie made his offspring by his fall,
Which puld in him the fruit which poysond all:
Thus (Errour ruling Reason's sacred raigne)
False Gods, Imaginarie Good did faine
Iustly of skill, of will, of strength denude,
To know, loue, follow, what was truely good.
Of God, whom mercie no desert did move,
Hee of his goodnesse willing to reclaime
Those Rebells, objects vile of wrath and shame,
Did with himselfe determine to bringe backe,
And His, wretcht Man, by double title, make,
Restoring him to more since his offence,
Than he enjoyd in state of innocence:
So bound himselfe by promise to this end
A Woman's Sonne vnto the world to send,
A Man in Wisdome, Majestie and Might,
Equall with God, to frustrate Sathan's slight:
The Serpent's heade to breake, his works destroy,
Lost happynesse that man might re-enjoy.
Now blinded Man in darknesse striues to hold,
And, with his owne prevailing did pervert,
And harden cursed Cain's cruell heart,
And such as hee, his misbeliving seede,
God's faithfull word and promise to disside.
His holy Lambe set foorth to publicke viewe,
Him outward figures shadowing beneath:
To manifest the vertue of his death.
Man made vpon the outward worke abide:
To set all labor'd (whom his sugred hooke,
To swallow over he could moue to looke),
Beyond the signes to their appointments end,
That so for trueths men might on shads depend.
His Sonne for Man's redemption to bee slaine
More clearly in the flesh to manifest,
Good hopes to Man did giue, on which to rest,
To mortall eyes presenting now and than,
The World's Redeemer in the shape of man.
Christ's comming in man's Nature to keepe backe,
New slights assayde, and so his purpose wrought,
That he, in Heber's house, (Sem's offspring) brought
Imagerie of mettell, wood, and stone,
Perswading those the safest means alone
God's knowledge both to haue and keepe acquird,
Man's ouerthrow thus craftily conspir'd;
Wonne to giue way thus to inventions vaine
Abraham's stocke idolatrie did staine.
From this contagious crew which thus did fall,
The father of the faithfull God did call,
And (separat from their societie,)
His Church did stablish in his familie.
Here yet ensued anone a new defection,
Till God brought foorth his people, did his law
By his owne finger on two tables drawe,
Midst flames promulgate; that no liuing soule
His will presume should after to controule;
Corrupted man's conceat did so transport,
That euerie age almost, afresh they fell,
Though plagued for this sinne did thus rebell,
And on this fancie never ceasde to dotte,
Till God made even with their deserts their lotte.
Them (after heauy stroakes of his disdaine,)
Delyuering to proud Tyrants to detaine
In fearefull bondage, slauerie worse than death,
In Babell 'mongst idolaters to breath.
Loue, beare about, their God for such forsake,
But as they did of the Messiah heare,
Did to the ancient Prophecies giue eare.
Not ceassing his intent to follow, mixd
With God's pure Truth traditions, not a few,
Which lasted till our Lord did all make new;
And 'mongst God's people, and peculiar race,
For outward idols finding now no place,
Wholly his slight extending, did neglect
No meanes in minds an idole to erect:
Of many, whom his subtiltie did make
God's oracles, the Prophecies mistake,
To dreame that Christ should bee an earthly king,
To earthlings earthly dignities to bring,
Their Eyes lockt vp, giuen ov'r to Vanitie,
God's true spirituall meaning blynd to see,
That Saducees secure, who nought did care,
But things for present life, which vsefull were,
Soules Immortalitie, the general doome,
The bodies rising fables durst presume
Of cheieffe accompt, of speciall respect,
Became with men, tho Atheists in effect.
And Godlesse Saducees, (Religion's staine)
(The Blinde giuen ouer to the Blinde to guide,)
Till God in end, Man pittying thus misled,
Sent in the flesh his Christ the plea to redde,
His mourning Saints to cheare these broils among,
Which did for Israel's consolation long.
In time's full terme, by Him the Sonne was giuen,
Hee to the world, did to this onely end,
The expresse Image of his Person send,
In whom the brightnesse of His Glory shind,
Immortal God in mortall shape enshrind,
True God, true Man, a Mediator
To God his Soueraine good, Man to vnite
In man's base shape, God thus made manifest,
The Word made flesh, to grace man repossest,
God's wisdome infinit, His Loue sincere,
Thus in the Man CHRIST IESVS did appeare.
His Trueth vncomprehensible was than
In Him made sensible to shallow man,
Who saw in Him the Rays of Heavenly light,
The viue character of His paterne bright,
Which did not in His outward featurs shine,
But in his doctrine, life and works divine:
Which did all eyes in admiration draw,
That who the Sonne, the Father also saw.
Man to his God, in malice Sathan flew,
And boldly dares renew the auncient warre,
With envy swolne, this glorious worke to marre;
He streight did stoppe Man's vnattentiue eare,
That man should not His heavenly doctrine heare.
With foggie mists, with sinne's thick clouds He blinds,
The mirror darke of world-distracted minds,
That they no further than his outside pierce,
The glorious beames His Godhead did disperse,
That with weake eyes they might no view this light;
But Him disvaluing, Them who dearely lov'd,
Nor with His life, not works, nor wonders mov'd;
They onely pore vpon His outward frame,
Who in a seruant's shape most meanly came,
Cladde with our Nature's imperfections fraile,
Inwrapt (as seem'd) in sinfull fleshe's vaile,
Whom viewing with the cloudie eyes of sense,
No wonder that the world conceiud offence,
That Hee who came the world to saue alone,
Thus to the world did proue a Stumbling Stone.
Thus Saracens, thus Machometans all,
Rejecting Christ cause man's basse shape He bare,
Ly taken in the craftie hunter's snaire.
Least this humilitie should marre his ayme,
God in himselfe invisible to show,
And manifest to Earthlings heere below,
That Essence Infinit, Omnipotent,
Most Good, most Glorious, most Excellent,
Did wonderfully in His Heavenly brest,
(Tho never but in motion) ever rest,
Hee, his Apostles, Messingers divine,
Pen-men, in whom pure Trueth vnstain'd did shine,
Inspyrd, as Hee did by His Spreit endite,
His birth, lyfe, death and testament to write,
So that (tho Atheists this wovne coate would rend,
God's Word by heavenly inspiration pend,)
What These, what His Evangelists record,
Sweet straines, in sweetest harmony accord;
Which holy ditements as a mirrour meete,
Loynd with the Prophesies in Him compleet,
Might serue His Glorious Image to present,
To such as sought Him with a pure intent,
To all that loue Him, ev'n to all His owne.
Not His adulterat, but his pourtrait true,
In mirror of the Scriptures He imprents,
Vntouched to leave His outward Lineaments,
His bodies frame, the featurs of His face
To Him but common with fraile Adam's race,
Giues charge his person, properties to paint
The world with His life, doctrine, death, acquaint,
His Nature's offices, His wonders wrought,
His suffrings, sayings; not omitting ought
That to His praise, Man's profite might redound
In all whats needefull to Saluation found,
Which might our Faith confirme, our Loue inflame,
Or paterne proue to which our Life to frame.
Of man's base shape, in Him, but dim'd the light
Of God's perfection, and did onely show,
The fraile infirmities from flesh that flow.
What good His bodie's just proportion brought,
Since, face to face injoyd, His living sight,
As heere he did present an earthly wight,
So little helpt the world in Him to view,
Of God Invisible The Image true?
With nature's twilight, millions made to slide.
Illightned eyes did view the Tree of life:
These were the Caske, which peirc'd, sweet balme did yeeld
That to an angrie God wretcht man conceild.
In Him did dwell and bodily abide,
Did all behooue, who view His Godhead would.
The richer substance of the Treasures hidde
Of knowledge deepe, of wisedome most profound,
Of vnseene graces, which in Him were found.
(While seene on Earth of Heaven to make vs right)
His bodie's shape, His lineaments of face,
The featurs choice, which Him did chieflie grace,
Him to point foorth were equall in no sort,
And what a one Hee was, to show came short:
A lifelesse picture can no be denyed
Yet short to come: for Painters doe not ayme
The soule of Him, whose shape the hand doth frame
To set in sight: They striue alone to leaue
His Bodie's figure, whom they paint or graue,
And that but for the present day or houre
They did the Paterne see, but having pow'r,
Time, wrinkled age still hastning by degrees,
Their arte to mock, which mock mistaken Eyes.
By arte most exquisite, in write divine
Not superficially his shape doe show,
But solidly make vs our Saviour know;
Not as our Image, but as God's He bare,
In our fraile Nature, Man as men wee are;
Not in one Nature, but in both vnite,
God-man conjoynd, a Sauiour compleet,
Not in one act, one case, or one estate,
But from his birth, even to His life's last date,
From his descending to Earth's lower parts,
The Virgin's wombe, this mirror bright imparts
Him fully, till He suffering did ascend,
At God's right hand to raigne, world without end.
Thou longst, the Scripture must thy mirror bee,
The Spirit (heere) thy Lord, then yeeres more old,
What one He should bee, ere Hee came, foretold,
And, ere humanitie did Him invest,
His purtrait wonderfully (heere) exprest,
For vs not onely serving on the stage,
But all the Elect, since the world's first age.
The auncient Church did all in substance see,
Know, loue, beleeve, enjoy, of Him what wee.
Him singled foorth, His sight, by faith sinceere,
Did patriarchs all and Prophets so enflame,
That in His day they joyd before Hee came.
Conveend, His suffrings in some measure saw,
Him slaine for sinne, though dimly to their view
The torchlight of their Sacrifices shew:
On Him they weakly, yet with pleasure deepe,
Through lattices of Typs, and figures, peepe,
And (as they may) behold, from this dark cloud,
The Sonne of righteousnesse Himselfe vnshrowd,
That Lambe of God, that taks away sinne's staine,
Ere world was made, who for the world was slaine,
Feeding on Him their souls, as wee, by faith
Thus to bee fred with vs, from endlesse wrath;
Both by one cuppe, by one spirituall foode
Refresh'd, both sav'd by vertue of His blood.
From Earth's low centre, reaching highest Heaven,
Till Shilo came who cleerly did impart,
The Scepter should from Iudah neuer part,
Iob liu'd perswaded, while most deeply grieu'd,
That for his safetie his Redeemer liu'd.
The Father euerlasting, Blessed thrise,
A Child of wounder, euen the GOD of might,
Israel's Glorie, and the Gentile's light,
Esay foretold (a branch of peerelesse worth,)
From Iesses stemme, shall in the Flesh sprout forth,
A King on whom the gouernement shall stay,
Of all the world who shall the Scepter sway,
A pow'rfull Prophet, by the Lord anointed,
Good tydinges to the meeke to preach appointed,
Who shall bind vp, not breake the bruised reed,
The weakely smoaking flaxe not quenche, but feed.
All to set forth the Glorie of this LORD,
Whom Hee a Priest for euer doth detect,
After the order of Melchisedecke,
Him doth point forth, now as expos'd to scorne,
His hands and feet most pitifully torne,
By lot his vestures parted, in his neede
Made vinegar to drinke, on gall to feede,
Constraind to crye, with sense of horror shaken,
My God, My God, why hast thou Me forsaken?
Now as victoriously on high ascending,
Him twentie thousand thousand Angels tending,
A captiue making of captivitie,
To His proclaiming peace, and libertie,
The swelling pride of proude insulters laid,
His foes crusht downe, His foot-stoole being made.
To be raisd vp to David (who to quench,
His burning thirst with Bethlem's streams did long)
The Spirit spoke by Ieremia's tonge,
Him setting forth a King, whose prosperous raigne
Iustice and judgement should on Earth maintaine,
Who Iudath save, who Israel should reclame,
The Lord our Righteousnesse designd by name.
Christ the Messiah manifest to make
From time to time, who by degrees of light,
By Types or Prophecies was set in sight,
Till from the Arke, the outward covering drawne,
This glorious Day-starre in the flesh did dawne.
Predictions with accomplishments compare,
With wonder ravisht, heere thou shalt behold
All done, what earst was to bee done, foretold,
Of Typs the clowdie Mysteries explaind,
Shadows sequestred, reall Truths attaind,
The legall rites, the ceremoniall lawe,
By Him abolisht, who the vaile did draw,
Of Christ affording a more liuely sight,
A clearer knowledge, and a nearer light,
So that the tenderest sight, the weakest eye,
Him now vnmasked in this glasse may see.
A Babe presents Him, death and hell who quaild,
The Ancient of dayes a suckling weake,
Who from His daughter's bowells birth did take,
An Infant, coeternall with his Sire,
Whose Incarnation Angels did admire,
Prizd by the foolish with contempt and scorne,
Because a weakling of a weakling borne,
In humble state, layd in a homelie stall,
To narrow bounds confind, who boundeth all,
The comfort crauing of Her Virgine brest
Who gaue Him birth (his wants by cryes exprest,)
Borne and exposd at once to Tyrant's spight,
Constraind His lyfe to saue by secret flight,
The stormie flood of bloodie Herod's rage
Let loose on all the equals of his age,
Who, to assure Himselfe of Him alone,
Cruell to all, prou'd pitifull to none.
By Princes of the East, a Saviour prizd,
His God-head who no sooner doe behold,
But offering gifts of Incense, Myrrhe, and gold,
Fall downe, adore, and to their LORD approue,
Their faith, their hope, their loyaltie and loue.
Since craftsman's skill on mettall, wood, nor stone,
This can so liuely to the Eye present,
As doth His written Word and Testament,
Why fondly then prefer phantastick men
The Graver's toole to the Apostle's penne?
Which doth faire buds of Pietie forth bring,
Inciting tymouslie our tender yeeres
To true devotion (since no act appeares,
In which he provd to vs a President,
The which was not for our instruction ment.)
Heere thou shalt find Him in the Temple sett
And Heavenly knowledge from His child-hood gett,
Israel's doctours hearing Him demand,
Who at His doctrine all astonishd stand,
Ravisht to see, yeeres so vnripe admitt
Such full perfection of a hoarie witt.
Thy Saviour drencht in Iordan's streams to see:
Loe, Hee who formerly was circumcis'd,
By His great Harbinger must be baptiz'd:
Thus sanctifying by those seales divine,
The auncient Church, the Church that was to shine:
Those actions His pure bodie must endure,
Which should have force to clense our soules impure;
Tho Him, in whom (vnseene) the Godhead raignd,
Nor filth, nor fore-skinne of corruption staind,
Did need nor streams, nor circumcising knife:
Yet sinne for vs himselfe hee made, that wee,
In Him the righteousnesse of GOD might bee.
Thy Saviovr's footsteps to the deserts trace.
There shalt thou view in single combat foyld,
By proper armes, troad vnder foote and spoyld,
That pow'rfull Aduersare, the dragon old,
Who to assaile the Sonne of GOD was bold.
Truth, mercie, pittie, loue, humilitie,
All wisdome, meeknesse, patience, prudence, peace,
Which in perfection but in him found place,
No wonder then this Mirror thee amaze,
Since in no corner Thou heereof canst gaze
Which doth no liuely set before thy sight
A lanterne to thy lyfe, the Lord of light.
Of living waters in the fountaine true
The Scripture, digging to thy selfe in vaine
Such cisternes as no water can containe,
What can the Pencil's most industrious art,
By pictures dumbe to Thee of these impart?
In others chiefly lyes the fault, the shame,
Dumbe Doctors ceassing when for ease to preach,
Or would not, or els could no people teach,
Least men by vse should loath, at length despise
Their often-mumbled matins did devise,
Guyses to gaze on, showes men's soules to feed,
An vncouth language for their dayly bread;
To charme the Eare did mixe a sweete concent
Of Melodie, by voice, by instrument,
With choise divisions of an hundreth kinds,
About to moue, and melt the hardest minds;
These, they were sure, would neither bark nor bite,
For did they teach the Trueth, their faults expose,
As Scripturs, which their lewdnesse doe disclose,
They surelie should such intertainment lake,
And (thrust to doores) the Scripturs' bonds partake,
Which ly in fetters of an vncouth leid,
Keept vp from sillie soules, which faine would read,
Claspt by authoritie, that on this booke
Saue privileged persons none may looke,
Because in this engrav'd Christ's portrait true
Is by the Spirit set to publike view,
Plainely proclaiming, what doth them displease,
Crying a Woe to Scribes and Pharisees,
Faind Church-men, who pretend the saint to feed,
By lanterne of God's Word, weake soules to lead,
Of knowledge key, them meantyme doe debarre,
So both their owne, and others' entrie marre.
With grievous burdens, impositions large
The People's backs, denying ev'n the aide
That by their little finger may be made.
In lifelesse ceremonies most precise
To seeme who studie, to obseruing eyes,
Yet soules committed to their cure neglect,
And truth and mercie hold in small respect.
The grossest sinne, the grievousest offence,
Devouring widowes houses, doe betray
The innocent, poore Orphans make their prey.
Where nought within but rotten bon's abide,
To satisfie GOD'S Iustice daring stand,
For works of Righteousnesse of Men's owne hand.
Hudge Camels swallow, straining at a gnat,
Whom, with themselues they adde to Sathan's traine.
That life and beeing them no more imports,
Then tumide Titles, Greetings, caps and knees,
Prioritie of place of all degrees.
In These but chieflie, set to ouerlooke
His flockes, lights in the chayre of truth to shine,
Call'd to dispense his mysteries divine,
O with what care their sacred charge to tend,
Doth hee vnto his watch-men recommend,
Warning least they should by ambition slyde,
By worldlie grandour, statelinesse or pride.
Lordly dominion, Raines of Sov'raignetie,
Prohibiting by them vsurp't should bee.
A rule from which vnlawfull to debord,
In matter of Religion, worship true
Of God in doctrine to Salvation due;
Traditions all rejecting, to this square
(How old soever) which repugnant are.
Flie, flie, O yee, who of His house make sale,
Base Simonists beware, the Lord of Lords
Hasts with a whip, a lashing scourge of Cords,
All mercenarie misers to expell
Buyers and sellers from His house to Hell.
By future errors least they bee o'rethrowne,
Of Hypocrits doth (now) vnmaske the face,
How ere their outsids shine with showes of grace,
Cowsning the world with a pretence of goode,
(Their fruits neere comming further than the bud,)
Who, tho they Vice can deck in Vertue's dye,
Yet sile they can not His all-seeing Eye.
Haue beene, to bring dumb Idols in request,
Christ's speaking purtrait such haue put to peace,
(This stocks and stones admitted to outface,)
But hearken thou, to his sweet voice giue eare,
From His owne mouth, thou by the Sprit shalt heare
The word of Trueth, Him powring foorth sweet streams
Of living waters, to the soule that cleams
Refreshment, feeling want, in feare to sterue,
Such (heere) shall find, what may to saue them serve.
The winds rebuking, sinne's possessed slaues
From Legions of foule Spirits setting free,
The dead recalling to mortalitie:
Yea; raising vp thy selfe from sinne's dark cave,
A Lazare, stinking in corruption's grave
To see the danger, the deserved wrath,
The guilt, thy trembling soule lyes drencht beneath,
By which if humbled, Hee shall comfort speake,
Thy wounds bind vp, vnloade thy conscience weake,
Invite thee with thy burden to draw neere,
Offring for thee the Father's wrath to beare;
Whom, that thou may'st from filth of sinne bee purg'd,
Thou shalt behold arraign't, condemned, scourg'd,
Sighing and groaning, with thy burden prest,
Expos'd to paines which can not be exprest,
Weeping, and bleeding, suffering death for thee.
O Love! O Pittie, in a strange degree!
Of his sad passion, tryed as purest gold
By fire dissolv'd, in which no drosse is found,
Deeplie afflicted, prostrat on the ground,
The Garden watering with a Crimson flood,
From all his pores distilling streams of blood,
His Courage seeming quaild, His Strength decayed;
Crusht downe with weight of God's incumbing wrath,
His guiltlesse soule made heavy to the death,
Thy Crimes the cause, thy sinnes inunding speate,
The meanes from Him which drew this bloudie sweate,
Whom (notwithstanding) Hee did (so) esteeme,
That all His suffrings did most pleasant seeme
Thee, wretched wormeling, to redeeme from death,
Perdition's heyre, sinne's slaue, the child of wrath;
To thee the Father's favour to acquire,
Not shrinking to drinke off the dregs of ire.
These bee the suffrings, counterfits which scorne,
Which lyfelesse draughts deface, but not adorne.
These be the suffrings which perplexed soules
Most sensibly conceiue, sunk deep in scrouls
Of tender bleeding hearts, The only way,
Most liuelie felt which make his Torments may;
Who (heere) the dolors of his death engrosse,
Best feele the fruicts and comforts of his crosse.
O deare affection matcht with misregard!
Loe, Hee who bought Man at so deare a rate,
By Man is sold, betrayd by Man vngrate,
The traitor's mouth, which flowd with fraud, with hate,
His lips dare touch where found was no deceit:
Friend whether comst thou? (Christ his friend yet is:)
The SONE OF MAN betrayst thou with a kisse?
Hee who those armed bands did cast to ground,
Them, with his breath, all able to confound,
With this soft speech, this gratious checke alone,
Doth wound, not wonne, the traytor's heart of stone.
Who preasd, by arms, this offred wrong redreesse,
Yet did not mease the causelesse spight, conceau'd
In hardned hearts so farre from grace, from loue,
That miracle, nor favour them can move.
Led hence, transported with this raging storme,
Left by His owne, yeelding His conqur'ing hands,
Thee to set free, to ignominious bands.
With lamps, with lanterns led, they apprehend
The Sonne of truth, incarnate to this end.
That glorious Beame of vncreated light,
By flesh and bloode invaild, hid from their sight,
Thus all foretold gainst actors of this Ill,
Against themselves do perfitly fullfill.
And with vindictiue flams of furie boylst,
Tormenting others, darst revenge avouch,
Vpon thy reputation's slendrest touch,
See, with what patience, with what silence deepe,
While Iews disgrace vpon disgrace doe heape,
Thy Sauiour to the Smiters giues his backe,
Doth from the Nippers not his cheeks keepe backe.
To shame, to spitting, doth expose his face,
The path not only pointing thou shouldst trace,
But treading euerie steppe, hath taught the way,
From which t'is shame, yea dangerous to stray.
Loe in this hight of scorne, depth of disgrace,
With cheare vnchang'de he dares his foes outface,
Yet from his lips not one intemperat word,
His mercilesse tormenters doth remord.
That Hee did suffer, shame or outward paines,
Needfull for Thee to know in one small Booke
Is found, on this in steade of pictures looke:
This beare, this weare, this reverentlie reade,
When read, at least attentiuelie take heede,
Which thy deare LORD a-dying left to thee.
Each loue-sicke soule to Him betroathd by fayth,
His loue thus showne, to kindle loue againe,
That mutually love wee might intertaine;
Nor let by wrong nor violence be reft,
But striue to know what written for thy well,
With's owne deare blood thy louing Lord did seale.
See our true Samson yeelding now at length,
Spoild of the hayres of his vnmatched strength,
A bloodie butchrie suffering for thy sake,
Stript naked, torne with whips, faint, pale and weake,
The Souldiours mocking His enfeebled might,
Combining, in His torment, sport with spight,
His offices all branding with reproch,
With blasphemie Him charging, they encroch
Vpon his Priest-hood with a bitter blow,
Now, siling vp his eyes, Hee streight must show
Who him did most with causelesse strips infest,
As Prophet this by him must bee exprest:
Then, cloathd in purple, crownd with pricking thorne
As King, is made the object of their scorne.
Bright Eye of Heaven, O now shut vp thy light;
Salt fountains all of tears be now enlarg't,
Weake Isaak's tender shoulders (loe) are charg't,
With wood, Himselfe to sacrifice prepar'd;
Lo! neither is from shame Thy Saviour spar'd,
From pressing loade of that disgracefull Tree,
The means appointed of his death to bee;
See, faintlie staggring, how He grones beneath
The pondrous weight of God's incumbent wrath.
The Sonne of God by Souldiours disarayed,
The vine-presse of the Father's Ire doth treade,
Fixt to the crosse, his hands, his feete transpierced,
Exposd to paine, to horrors vnrehearsed,
His gratious armes foorth streatching all the day,
To rebells walking in an evill way.
Who (God not robde) equalitie did plead,
With robbers matcht, for thee a curse is made
And even to death, endures vpon the Crosse,
In soule, in bodie, pains of sense, of losse.
Heavens suted to their Makers mournefull state,
Mask't vp with clouds, in their owne kinde regrait,
Loe, Earth doth tremble, flintie Rocks doe rend,
Graves backe to light their sleeping guasts doe send,
And loe, while ev'n his life's last spunke is spent,
The Temple's vaile is to the bottome rent.
Nailling vnto his Crosse Thy oblishments,
Cancelling those Inditements which did tye
God's wrath in iustice Thee to vnderly,
Resoluing more by sinning, to abstaine
To crucifie The LORD of life againe;
On his owne death, who freelie of his grace,
Did ground thy life and euerlasting peace.
What faith can wish or what thy soule desires,
The Spirit in this mirrour shall disclose,
And to thy sight of Him as much expose,
As may thy soule heereafter serue to saue,
And guide thee (heere) with comfort to the graue,
Except His inward vertues thou neglect,
And but his outside carnally affect.
This farre vnnecessare for thee to knowe;
Sufficient that, which These who knew Him best,
And best did know to make him knowne, exprest
Which They did penne, God's Spirite did endite.
By other means refusing to bee knowne
Then by his word alone, where faith's bright eye,
His hidden graces may most liuelie see,
So that (except this way) no knowledge true,
Accrest of Him, vnto the outward viewe
Of These, admitted in his humane state,
To touch Him, ev'n with Him to drinke, to eate.
To Man, of other means of grace depriv'd,
To know the Sonne, and in the Sonne the Sire,
The Sonne, concealler of the Father's Ire,
O judge what Spirit this great worke to marre,
This course to crosse, the Scriptures would debarre
And hide this Mirror from the longing sight
Of Soules, which faine would see this Sunne of light,
Enjoyning such, this knowledge to attaine,
By pictures false, or some resemblance vaine
Of that externall shape, which God did hide,
Least any in this fruitlesse search should slide?
Seeks GOD and Man, to seuer day and night,
With envy boyling, at man's good who griev'd,
Hath ay a lyer and a Murtherer liv'd;
His point for once who gayning, seeks yet still,
To disconforme man to his Maker's will;
From GOD'S true worship man did still divert,
By whom to such prophanenesse mortals driv'ne,
Haue worshipt Sunne, Moone, Starrs, the host of Heaven;
Who made the nations God's true worship loath;
And Men's deluded fantasies entysd
A furtherance in GOD'S seruice to conceat,
By means engendring his eternall hate;
These vain surmises Micah did infect.
A house of GODS, a Levite to his Priest
Who having This of blessings held no least;
With fond conceats, Imaginations vaine
Before Hee came, that when in humble state,
Not seconding their expectation great,
Hee did a servant's shape assume, whom they
Conceiv'd, the scepter of the world should sway,
An earthly Monarch, a triumphing King,
Who by resistlesse force should freedome bring
To their subjected state, Himselfe oppose
To tyranizing pride of conqu'ring foes,
Whom finding Other then they did surmise,
With strong delusions led, the world agrees,
The true Messias cruellie to kill,
Expecting their fore-fancied Saviour still:
Although our LORD, inviting oft there view,
In Scriptures to behold his paterne true,
Which, holy Prophets livelie had exprest,
Ere fleshe's vaile His God-head did invest,
Yet He, this Glasse who hid, their eyes did sile:
His guiltlesse blood must needs their hands defile.
Yet from the world the Scriptures to suppresse,
And from the knowledge true of CHRIST, therein,
The world debarring keeps the world in sinne:
Cous'ning poore people by deceitfull slight,
Of paynters arte, affording false delight,
Filling their hands, robt of God's sacred word,
With pictures, from their paterns which debord,
Now Christ, the holy Crucifixe now name.
Would striue to hide what God hath meant to show?
Or who, except alone that Spirit bold,
That dare raike vp, which God ly buried would?
What Spirit els the world to looke would let
In that pure Mirror, whence faint soules might get
Refreshment, by the sight of Him alone,
Who in His word is seene, is rightlie knowne?
Who els would sweate the multitude to leade,
By lying Images, GOD'S peace to pleade,
By which the world is rather led astray
After dumb Idols in damnation's way?
Patrons prophane of this impietie
Antichristian hatred & the Spirit of Sathan may bee seene in these who blaspheme the scripture, for if any man at Rome should say but the same of all the popes writtings and the writtings of popish doctors which they say of the holie Scripture, hee should bee streight way declared an enemie to the kirk of Rome, and put to death for a deuilish heretick.
Doe serue, who superstitiouslie maintaine
This forg'rie, Man in darknesse to detaine,
The Romane Clergie, who of pow're too weake,
The words pure light to make the world forsake
By craft doe cast about another way
To dimme the luster of this Lamps cleare Raye,
The holy Scripture branding with disgrace,
Which to traditions they but second place,
Making the world It, with a just neglect,
Corrupt and poysond in the source suspect,
Imperfyte, and in vulgare tongues to bee
Translated, needlesse, not from danger free.
Thus from foule mouths maliciouslie they spew,
Aginst the Scriptures not aspersions few,
Furthering the world (so farre as in them lyes),
GOD'S word as hard, yea hurtfull, to despyse,
Their leaden braines with superstition grosse
Doth so distract, that This, they madly seeme,
To honour more than Him did them redeeme,
Religious worship, yea divyne is due,
Yea that same worship, which to CHRIST they owe,
If Hee Himselfe did personally showe.
The suppressing of the common reading of the Scripture makes such way to all errors, that the Romane clergie rules securelie and rainges over all kingdoms, coūtries, and commounwealths, while they get place over King's crowns, men's consciences, their soules, bodies, lands, rents, and movables, and all at their pleasure.
Traditions vncontrold fynd patent way,
Their canons, constitutions, Popes' decrees,
False definitions, legends stuft with lyes,
Doctrines deboarding from the written Word
With Scripture equall credite thus afford,
Yea of the Scripture thou mayst nought beleeue,
But in what sense the Pope is pleasd to giue:
Thus, to the blinded world's astonishment,
Their Lying wonders with beleife they went,
Thus from the People they their Errors hyde,
Which, by the sharper sighted if espyd,
The word withdrawne, their labour lighter is,
To make them thinke they did decerne a-misse.
Thus must the People found their fayth on trust,
For as their Church-men, so belieue they must.
A net of merits, of good works to weave,
By which they fish, (from such as may be brought,
To apprehend that Heaven may thus bee bought,
With excesse to maintayne Those who have charge,
Of convents, cloisters) Rents, dotations large,
And if this fully doth no worke their end,
A larger Net of Pennance they extend,
From which to bee exem'd, they waird, they watch,
The Rich-ones by Indulgences to catch,
Who by their purse chuise rather to bee purgt,
Then fast from flesh, then suffer to bee scourgt.
And both the one and other doe escape,
To bee assur'de then both of poore and rich,
A Hose-nett they of Purgatorie pitch,
Heere Great ones stick, yea not the Fire go free;
All, by the doctrine which these Clerks do found,
Vngratious, yea vnnat'rall must be found,
(At death at least) except with minds devote,
Allowance, in some measure, they allote,
Some kynd remembrance, Masses to maintaine,
Soules to set free, from purgatorie's paine.
The substance of the world suck vp by slight,
By shows of holynesse, by secreet stealth,
Congesting mountaines of entysing wealth,
To which, as Ravens which doe a Carion see,
Trowps of Church-orders, swarms of Shavelings flie,
Of which none idle, all on worke are set:
By Cous'ning miracles, some doe credite get,
To Cristen bels, tosse beads they some appoint,
Some crosse, some creepe, some sprinkle, some anoynt,
Some hallow candles, palmes, crisme, ashes, wax,
Some penitents admitt to Kisse the Pax;
And while this crew in these imployment wants,
They multiply both male and female Saints;
A severall Church they to each Saint allote;
By raysing Altars they must seme devote,
In one Church diverse, to a diverse end,
Which men enabled with new meanes must tend.
Of Scripture, Seene, which would the World acquynt
With these Imposturs, damnable deceats,
Indang'ring vnder trust, so great Estates,
Which if they licenc't were God's Word to view,
Should doubtlesse bide those forg'ries all adiew.
What earst did kindle the Ignoble Ire
All in a Mutinous concurse which flew,
While of this Monster the seditious Head,
Demetrius for Diana's shrines did plead.
What motives then did these incense, the same,
Place now for their Imagery doe clayme,
Them stirring vp more turbulent, how much
Their trade doth breed them greater gayne, then such.
For but the mettel's worth and craftsmen's paynes,
Did breed Ephesians answerable gaynes,
But of their Picturs what the eye espyes,
'Tis nought; their worth in forme nor matter lyes,
These valued are, on these the world doth doate,
As Church-men holinesse to them alloate,
As sacred vertue Men in them conceave,
Which Pope or Prelate, at their pleasure gave,
Thus by conceit, the Simple to entyse,
These by opinion, not by worth who prise.
Thus doe they farre those Silver-smiths out-flee,
In witty traffiquing, in policy,
Masking their avarice with greater slight,
Than these who sold but what they set in sight,
Their consecrated Crucifixes be
Most prisd for their supposed sanctitie.
Tho every day bring foorth a new creation
Of these false pictures, an adulterat brood,
So that in number, number they exclude,
Yet all of them, though of a diverse frame,
Each diffring from another, boldly clame,
Christ vively to exhibite to the eye,
Stretcht foorth to death vpon an abject tree;
So that, it seems more CHRISTS they either make,
Or CHRIST doe for the damned thiefe mistake,
Sith neither Graver's toole, nor Paynter's arte,
Doe other difference, saue in thoght impairt,
They doe resemble, all of them they rate,
And doe in as high estimation hold,
(Though infinite in number) as of old,
Ephesians did their One Palladium prise,
Which they did fancie Iove sent downe from skyes.
Lest their abuses It should manifest,
And lying Pictures in its place are thrust,
Yet vnder colour of a reason just,
Since Images (say they) by silent speach,
As bookes, the rude, the ignorant doe teach,
Since Scripture to the vse of all, least free,
Oft misconceiud doth lead to heresie.
That Images, inventions but of dust,
In teaching truth GOD'S sacred word doe match,
That Scriptures serue but heresies to hatch?
Shall speaking scriptures be dumbe rules despisd?
By Craftsman's arte on mettle, woode, or stone,
Shall Christ more lively to the world bee showne,
Then by Their dytments who did him behold,
And left His words, deeds, life, & death enrold?
This to maintaine lewd heresies who chuse,
Must guiltlesse soules, must people innocent,
Of their offence endure the punishment?
Thus should wee shunne the Sunne's conforting light,
Which (happily) hath hurt some stairing sight,
Thus losse the comfort of GOD'S creatures goode,
Since some that poysons which is others' foode.
If heresies (by which are most misled)
In learned, but vnhallowed brayns are bred,
Since hatcht, nor nurst by the simplicitie,
Of vulgar braynes these deepe delusions bee,
For heady Churchmen's fault, without desart?
Doth from not reading of the word aryse,
As CHRIST doth teach, why then (in Christ's despight),
To keepe from erring smother they this light?
Is repute Error, held for heresie;
Though Peter, Paul, or Prophet did perswade,
Though Christ Himself affirmd the contrare hade,
Their words must either not bee hard at all,
Or vnder Popish dispensation fall
To passe for Scripture, so a sense receave,
In other meaning than the Spirit gave,
A glosse the Text confounding quyte; because
For Error all they hold that hurts their cause.
The Scripture such a mirror to shew Christ that it changes the student into the liknesse of Christ while there he beholdeth him by fayth.
The Scripture is, that register divyne
Of holy write, that sacred, saving Booke,
In which our Lord hath licenct vs to looke,
Where, if wee labour earn'stly for His sight,
The skailes of darknesse which our eyes be-night,
He doth remove, and maks vs clearly see
With open face, the beames of Majestie,
And true Beholders by a manner strange,
Doth peece and peece in His owne likenesse change,
And in this study as wee progresse make,
Wee of the Glory which wee see partake,
Changt in our soules by Christ's renuing grace,
As on the mount was changed Moses' face.
Christ's face from viewing in this mirror bright?
Christ whom they search for, where hee found may bee?
The Spirit's working which doth men renew,
By means of this true sight, this inward view,
The change of soules from sinne why do they marre,
Why saving knowledge from the world debarre?
From forger's fancie which doe fashion take,
Truely to teach Christ's Naturs, Essence, Will,
Or in Christ's Image men to change from ill?
Christ's Mirror bee (that sacred fountaine staind),
In these or shall the Spirit men make see,
Or what Christ is, or what themselves should bee.
These nought to lookers on but lyes do teach,
And like themselves, their favourits they make,
As heads they have, but vnderstanding lake,
As mouths which speike no, feete which never move,
As eyes that see no, yet doe set on love,
And justly doe of wit, of sense bereave,
Disciples all, such Teachers as beleave,
Suffering themselues to bee debard the sight,
Of holy write, which truely teach them might.
The Ignorance of GOD Man binds therin.
The way to freedome from these heavy bands,
Christ's incomparable love of man's salvation hath set his wisdom (Luke 10. 22; Mat. 11. 27; John 17. 3) on worke to devyse the fittest means to make himselfe knowne to the world, and what his wisdome thought fittest for that end, his love hath mad him cairefully set downe in his testament, but no word of the lineaments of his face or shape of his bodie or pictures to expresse it.
In God's true knowledge principally stands;
God truely's knowne but in his Christ to none,
And God in Christ who know fynd life alone.
Now Christ, who onely GOD Himselfe who so,
That man may GOD, Man must Himselfe make kno.
The fittest meanes Himselfe to manifest,
To His owne searchelesse Wisdome knowne are best.
And how without it nothing vs can save,
And how the losse of Mankynd he doth beare,
Doth by His Death, to bring vs life appeare.
His loue to saue vs, Him who did despise,
Did set on worke His wisdome to devise,
All Meanes which of Himselfe the knowledge pure
And so of God, might to our soules procure,
And so in him bee reconceild, so fred
From wrath, so to eternall life bee led:
And what His Wisedome for our well devisd,
His constant care, in holy write comprisd
Hath left, the Meanes thus setting in our sight,
Which of Himselfe the saving knowledge might
Sufficiently disclose; Meanes onely meet
To make Him knowne, Meanes in themselues compleet,
Without the forg'ry hatcht in humane braine
Of lying pictures, Crucifixes vaine,
Which for His knowledge Hee hath thought vnfit,
Since mongst His Meanes these He doth not admit.
Which point Him foorth (Means in His Word contriv'd).
But all doth charge, who warm'd are with His loue,
And Means to make Him rightly knowne would proue,
To search the Scriptures, if for life they looke;
In all men's hand Christ puts this saving Booke:
This, Hee doth warrant, to eternitie,
A constant witnesse of Himselfe to bee.
Vnlawfull gayne to make of worthles wares,
By other Means then Christ, to lead to Heaven,
New bookes haue fayned, new directions given.
By searching of the Scriptures erre yee may,
Pictures are plaine, these harmelesse bookes doe show
What needfull is for you of Christ to know,
In Scripture darke 'tis dangerous to prye,
Such curious search concernes not you to trye.
That both vnfit and vnsufficient are
CHRIST'S Means; their owne devices more import
The well and safety of the weaker sort.
The Means most fitting, who could not afford;
Which choysen, most might to our safetie tend;
Charge, in his Latter-Will these meanes to leave.
More Wise, more Loving, Carefuller than Hee.
What else is this, by a pretence to teach
Christ's knowledge, but Christ's knowledge to empeach,
By faining a false Christ, to barre the way
By which the True attayne wee only may,
Who, not attaind, God neither can wee know,
Since God in Him alone Himselfe doth show?
Thus are the bonds of Man's most wretcht estate
By Nature, straitned by the Devil's deceate.
Haue place, we challenge only the abuse.
That paynter's Pencil pleasure doe impart
Wee hinder no, let craftsmen vse their arte:
But howsoever humane wit debord,
God in Religion must alone bee Lord.
Promulgate did, (where Him no mortall saw)
As Royall Roabs which Majestie attire,
Hee, onely as His owne Prerogatiue,
Did, of Religion, plead the Rule to giue,
And Man, (with vaine presumption swolne), at large
Madly with This to meddle doth discharge,
Binding His hands, by words expresse and plaine,
Of Him, no foolish Counterfit to faine,
No Image, for Religious vse, to make,
Of ought, in Heaven or earth did being take;
Nor made, to honour, with the least respect,
Save They with Him their Covenant would breake,
Kindling gainst them His iealousie most just,
Rankt as Adult'rers, (from His service thrust)
Who, worship with Him, or besyde Him, gave,
To others, due for Him alone to have.
This worship vaine, His worship which confounds,
All vse of Images, by Man devysd,
To God Man hatefull rendring and despysd.
Of Princes all Monarchick Soveraigne,
That Man of Sinne, perdition's Sonne, the slave
Of Sathan, yet pretends Christ's place to have,
Dare gainst this Law most impudently stand,
And God's great VETO boldly counter-mand.
Of GOD, of Man, he images dare make,
Thus Mocketh Christ, even suffring for our sake:
To these, Religious worship Hee allowes,
And This their Due most shamelessly avowes.
O how themselves they willfully deceave!
The custome of their Fathers They pretend,
The love of GOD, of CHRIST, this is the end
Why they Their purtraits reverently respect,
Whose persons They so dearely did affect,
Evasions serving more to mocke the eares,
Of simple Hearers, than this Error vaine
With meanest show of reason to maintaine.
God's Law most clearely these detects: the same
Excuses for this foolishnesse they frame
Which clearely are condemnd (shifts farre amisse),
In that Command which Rankt the Second is:
Which, God of purpose, gainst this Sinne did place,
This wickednesse so staring in the face,
That when heereof, they can not stand in sight,
Accusd, convinct by their owne conscience light,
To burie it from vulgare eyes they striue,
And this of place amongst the Ten depriue,
Braunching the Tent in twaine; to hide the thift,
Vsing a shamelesse sacrilegious shift,
Least seene the people should these snares forsake,
Layde (doubtlesse by the devill) their soules to take.
Condemned hath to Images to leane,
Yet still doe Image-doatars God's decreit
Striue to make Irrite, as vnjust, vnmeet,
Thus pleading profite to the Simpler sort,
Who come of knowledge by the Scripture short
But by the Eye inform'd, are brought in mynd,
Of what by These they represented fynd.
God by his Spirit cals this custome vaine.
Those creatures of thine owne, nor care, nor feare
Thou needst, which Thee can neither see nor heare.
How foolish they who doe on such depend,
Which neither Friend can help nor Foe offend?
The Stocke which God they to resemble frame,
Doth doctrines but of vanity proclame.
These perish shall from Earth, from vnder Heaven,
Their Founders to confusion shall bee driuen,
Whose worke is falshoode, forgt in Sathan's shoppe.
Men charming with a naturall delight,
Loe, GOD doth scorne, the workman's fruitlesse paynes,
The zeale poore people which hood-winkt detaynes,
Him seeking whose pure worship they professe,
By some Resemblance fondly to expresse.
Such as dare graven Images defend,
Deluded soules and blinded by deceate
GOD proves them, who transported with this spaite
Of madnesse, basely doe crouch downe before
The crafts-man's worke; which ought to have no more
Respect, then as much mettell, timber, stone,
Appointed for the basest vse, or none.
What lavish chairges spent in Making bee,
In Consecrating, what obsequious care,
What Superstition, straitning Sathan's snaire,
What base Devotion madly they bequeath
Vnto their Idoles, which (tho voyde of breath),
On shoulders mounted they on high doe reare,
And in ridiculous Procession beare.
Transported headlong, vse and profite dreame,
By these devices; God professeth plaine,
Hee knows no profite by these Meanes profaine,
Meanes to bee made vnworthy, Meanes to trust
Intolerable; teaching lyes to Dust,
Whence beeing they did take. The Curse of Woe,
Of Vengeance, thundred foorth they vndergoe,
Who Prayer's sweete perfume to such present,
Whom words nor vows can with or wants acquent.
Or grav'ne, or molten Image for to make,
God thus abhominably to disgrace.
Cursd, for devotion, who in secret place,
The Crafts-man's worke, GOD'S worship to confound
Set vp, the People all Amen resound.
A Curse denunceth both to Meane and Great,
That boast of Idols, Images doe serue.
The reason why Such do this curse deserue,
Saint Paule expresseth. For, from GOD estraingt
His Glory Incorruptible, transchangt
By them into an Image, made in all,
Like Man corruptible, proclive to fall,
They even GOD'S Trueth, have turned in a Lie,
Ascribing worship, in more high degrie,
Vnto the Creature subject to decay,
Than the Creator, who is blest for ay.
That while before a Crucifixe they crouch,
Or on a well done Image fixe their eye,
Their frozen Zeale they fynd enflamt to bee,
Their half-dead Faith reviv'd, their faynting Loue
To Christ, incitements wonderfull to prove,
Passions of joy, of feare, of griefe increst,
Fitting to further their devotion best,
So, though the world, (they openly avow),
Though all authoritie these disallow,
Which in their brests such strange effects doe bread,
And whence such motions of the Sp'rit, procead,
They can not bee induc't, so much as doubt,
But God aproves, even to be borne about,
Sollicitously keept, devoutely kist,
To bee falne downe before, these Means most blest,
Means, of that worship worthy held to bee
Even due to Christ; though not in like degree.
If with GOD'S will yee truely were acquent,
In holy write reveald, and did believe,
These Means suspition should not faile to give;
Thus narrowly yee should that Serpent's slight
Examine, in an Angel changt of light,
God's Spirit counterfitting, whose deceat,
Vnder pretence of peace procuring hate,
By bastard Motions of the minde doth make,
Deluded soules grosse Lyes for Truths mistake.
To thinke God's Word and Spirit disagree,
This, striving to restraine and stop the way,
That, grounds to this impiety to lay.
God's holy Spirit by no other Meanes
Doth worke, but such as God Himselfe ordaines,
Whatever superstitious potards dreame,
Forbidden Meanes He hates; and these by name.
Insinuating Himselfe to settell trust
In the deluded soules of such, as find
Such seeming-sacred-Motions of the mind,
Warming with woontlesse flames their frozen hearts,
Enveigling man's conceit with wondrous arts.
Even of the Spirite of Idolatrie;
The fire of worship false; entysing traines
Layd by that crafty Foe, who spairs no paines
Wretcht Man to make vnlawfully delite
In what GOD most condemns, in sacred write.
Before the Calfe, which Moses did destroy.
Such, made the Prophet by those Tribs contemnd,
In Dan and Bethell, who their calues condemnd.
Such earst (wee reade) was the deluding dreame,
Made Micah happy in his owne esteeme.
Worship to Images in groaues to giue.
Such zeale made Israelits of sense denude,
Bathe Molech's Image with their children's blood.
As subtile now as earst, is yet a-liue:
And still goth on, by all the craft hee can,
From service of the Living God, fond man
To tempt, Spirituall Whordome to commit
With Idols dombe: who, destitute of wit
With the inchaunting Motions of the minde
Is charmd, in Scripture which no warrant finde.
Which for His service God appointed hath
As men would haue, or in their hearts project,
Yet such (wee find) haue ever good effect.
But Motions which without God's Meanes doe worke
Are still to be suspect: the Snaike doth lurk
Beneath the blooming flowre: the deadliest blow
Is to bee fear'd from a disguised foe.
Who so, come by such Motions, can not flee
By Sathan's snaires but must entangled be.
Isaiah Christ made (long ere seene) admir'd,
Nor Forme, nor Comlinesse hee did foretell
Should make His outward feature to excell,
No beauty admiration to moue,
For which, wee should Him or desire, or loue.
And so it did succeed: for, who by sight
Of His externall shape, Him knew a-right
To bee the Christ, who Man to God conceald,
Such thing of Him, nor flesh, nor blood reveald.
(Which any Painter could haue wisht to see)
The bodily beholding of our Lord,
So little force, or furtherance did afforde,
Whom even the Princ'pall, not the Purtrait saw
To His obedience; O what madnesse then
What fury strange doth fill the braines of Men,
With dreams deluded, fondly to conceate,
That lying Pictures are of powre more great?
That counterfites of His exterior frame,
Zeale can make fervent, or with loue enflame?
As greater vertue did from Picturs flow
Then Person's presence they are set to show?
Which in the flesh did clowde Christ's Heavenly light
Did, nor with Motions nat'rall, nor divine,
Make men to loue, or seeke to Him, incline,
Shall Motions by this Shap's vaine picture wrought
Iustly, or nat'rall, or divine be thought?
No certaine: else the Crafts-man's toole should proue
On wood, or stone more forcible to moue
Then God's owne hand, Christ's frame, and featurs true
On superfice of humane flesh which drew.
Is fostred; thus that loues decaying might
Is quickned, yet Christ doth the blessing giue
To such as haue not seene and doe beleeue.
Resolv'd Him thus no more, if ever so:
How should these Means of knowledge then content
After the flesh Christ made to represent?
With Error, yet to take a nearer view,
Each Image should bee like its Patterne made,
From imitating which, it name doth pleade,
And if heereof it no resemblance leaue,
Beholders' Eyes it serues but to deceaue.
Which in his brest must first engraved bee
Before his Pensill, with deserved praise,
Can with its semblance ravisht Eyes amaze.
The Shape, the Lineaments, the Features right
His fantasie must apprehend by sight,
His hand directing, as hee did conceaue,
A viue impression to the Eye to leaue,
Els both deluded is His simple braine
And Men but mocked with an Idole vaine.
A bleare-eyed Leah hee should draw by chaunce,
A traytrous Iudas, being of intent
Rachel's, or Peter's purtrait to present,
Needs force the picture (yet) of that must bee
Which it most liuely sets before the Eye.
Proper to that to make which was His aime,
Yet must it bee that which it truely is,
Not what proposd it was, though nam'd amisse.
Pictures, procuring wonder, to contriue,
If from the Patterne diffring, wrought by guesse,
What serue they, fruitlesly but to expresse
And (valued though with vndeserved worth)
Conceptions but fantastick to set forth?
Since these (however by opinion great)
Yet births abortiue of some vaine conceate,
What can they els bee but resemble thought,
The fond Imagination them which wrought?
Though Popish Church should authorize the Dead
Church, Painter, picture, all to Error lead.
So doth the Image-Maker paint or graue:
The Patterns faynd Idea, in his braine
First must bee forg't, next the impression vaine
(A fantasie, hatcht in his head of late)
Finds on the Table, or the mettall, place,
As arte can his Imagination trace;
Thus, hold wee must each Image of this kinde,
The first Resemblance of the craftsman's minde.
How falsly then doth a mis-shapen masse
Of mettall for our Saviour's Image passe?
How fondlie men perplexe themselues to mixe
Colours most fit to frame a crucifixe?
Which when perfited by the best of arte
The most accomplisht Crafts-men can imparte,
In no respect with Christ resemblance hath,
Triumphing on the Crosse o're Hell, o're death,
No not so much as in His outward frame
By lines which they to counterfit doe clame.
Christ's living face who did no living see,
Nor saw He Any who could show by speach
And of our Lord the features truely teach,
But as conceate him ledde, hee boldly gues't,
And, as the Blind-man casts his staffe, exprest
Vpon his table: meerly ignorant
Whether in shape, this new-created Saint
Lookt liker Christ, or either of those twaine
Like shamefull death who did with CHRIST sustaine.
But, as the Child resemble doth the father,
This new-borne issue of the crafts-man's braine,
Got by imagination, hatcht for gaine,
Like to the fancie of his fond conceate
Who brought it forth, with paine, with labour great,
Must only be supposd; An Idol right
By Romish definition; (else but slight)
The Semblance of a thing but faind to bee,
Which no subsistance hath essentially.
Three pictures did most exquisite imparte,
Of Men, streachd foorth vpon the crosse to death,
This Master-peece while he accomplisht hath
Is't not to his arbitriment left free
By Christ to cristen any of the three?
Or, at his pleasure, all three theeues to make,
Resolving (least they company should lake)
Three other Christs to forge? or, to affixe
The Superscription of Christ's Crucifixe
Aboue the purtrait of a Thiefe of late,
(Adjudged so at least in his conceate)
It calling Christ? or, if hee rather please
The superscription new affixt to raise
So make his Christ a Thiefe, for some wrong draught
Which nearer observation him hath taught,
Can Pope, Priest, Prelate, alter his decree?
Which hee thinks fit, that Picture Christ's must be.
His Word must for a sentence stable stand,
What Hee determins, none can countermand,
None can His worke controule. For, if the sight,
The Iudge which onely can decerne aright
Of Picturs, never hath the Patterne spyed
How can in such the grossest faults be tryed?
Sense, lacking thus a rule to censure by
In vaine, but in the Painter's arte doth pry.
Thus foulest Errors in this kind goe free,
Thus Painters boldly take them leaue to lie
Audaciously, with liberty vnraind,
Coosning the world with Crucifixes faind,
Them giving foorth CHRIST'S semblances to bee,
Which but (at most) His Superfice belie.
(At shame nor shrinkt, nor at disgrace who grudgd)
An Offring Holy, Harmelesse, Vndefild,
While sacrifiz'd for Man, from grace exild,
While, compted with Transgressors, lift'd on hie,
(The Innocent the Guiltie setting free)
Loe! while enduring even the worst of spight,
Strength, Glory, Greatnesse, Majestie, and Might.
Brake forth so brightlie through contempt's dark clowd,
So (cleare) His Godhead did in death, vnshrowd,
That, the Centurion, overcome with wonder,
(While Heavens their face vaild vp, Earth sobt a-sunder,
These glorious Lanterns, as their lights were spent,
To shine forbearing, while their LORD was shent,
This, to the God of Strength, while seeming weake,
Its strength resigning, whence it strength did take)
Forc't was, convinc't in conscience, to confesse
That suffer did the Sonne of Righteousnesse.
But where's that Splendor darkning Daye's bright beame,
These Rayes of Glory, shyning even in shame?
What doe their Popish Crucifixes show
Of Christ, but shame, death, nakednesse, and woe?
What greater Glory set they to our view
Then to the basest Malefactor's due,
That on a gibbet, e're depriv'd of breath,
Endurd like shamefull execrable death?
(Life to giue life content ev'n life to losse)
Though dead for vs, at all who could no die,
Ceast never living Lord of life to bee,
Quickning, converting, strengthning Soules, even then
When seeming most contemptible to Men,
Raisd by His pow'r, of Him twice life receaue.
Than a Triumphing Christ like nothing lesse?
Of their owne Patterns (yet) true shads they are,
Viue Idols of a lifelesse Corps, as farre
From any force in working, by their view,
Or bodyes to raise vp, or soules renew
As is the basest Earth, or fondest braine,
Which first gave birth to these Inventions vaine.
Not of an onely Man the Body was,
But of that peerlesse Lord, true God, true Man,
Whose neare conjunction sunder nothing can,
Whose humane soule, though from its mansion fore'd,
Vpon the crosse by painefull death divorc'd,
Yet in the God-head, even o'recome by death
The Body Being had, while robt of breath,
Which, lying even in graue, His soule possest
In highest Heavens, that Paradise of rest,
Inviolable yet the Vnion stoode;
Nor Heaven, nor Earth (one minute) could seclude
The God-head from the Man-hood; life, nor death,
Nor hellish horror, nor the sense of wrath
Could hinder, still (yet so as none can tell)
The Godhead bodily in Christ to dwell:
Which caus'd, (though buried hee behov'd to bee)
God's Holy-One, corruption not to see,
Preserving thus (while dead, in coffin layde,
By putrefaction, as all flesh, to fade)
More pow'rfully the Body of our Lord
Than all the means the world could els afford.
Some shadow of Man's Body can impart,
And turnd in dust, while banished from breath,)
That by the pensill, may resembled bee
The Sonne of Man, the God of Majestie?
Who, having once a mortall shape assum'd,
Can, (without danger) never bee presum'd,
That from his Manhood (not in any cace)
His Godhead to dis-vnion can give place.
How madde are Men, who fondly goe about
Their Crucifixes false, means to appoint,
CHRIST'S Body blest, without the Godhead joynt,
To represent; and set before the Eye
Christ-Man, cut short of divine Majestie;
The Word made flesh denying, or in death
Loosing that Vnion, lasting but with breath;
Or, faining such a Christ, a Onely Man
Even by it selfe subsist whose Body can;
Or, of one Nature, or of Persons twaine,
A CHRIST Imaginary, therefore vaine;
Injuring thus those ever-blessed Three,
That Trinall One, which was, is, ay shall bee,
Thus venting blasphemies against our Lord,
Whose soule abhorreth thus to be ador'd,
And whom His Glory and His Praise to give
To grauen Images, doth highly grieue.
In Righteousnesse and Holinesse which stands,
The object of the soule's spirituall eye
By Carnall sight can not discerned bee:
And, as no meane presumption 'tis in Man
To liken ought his weake invention can
Produce, to God, Beginner, Vnbegunne,
So to set foorth his ever-procreat Sonne,
In nothing to his great Begetter lesse,
By ought or toole or pensil can expresse,
That Holy One who did the world redeeme,
Who, though for vs, His Glory layde asyde,
Did meanly in mortalitie abyde,
Should wee, Himselfe cause humbling, more neglect,
Or should his Man-hood, breed him lesse respect?
Though painter's lines might possiblie present
His Counterfite as Hee with shame was shent,
And of his Servant's-shape some shadow leaue,
(Or ayming so, at least the world deceaue)
Doth possibilitie a warrant plead,
Or to excuse or Iustifie this deed,
Since every Sinne hath possibilitie,
But none for this as lawfull held may bee?
Yet no Resemblance durst presume to draw,
Why rather now, since Flesh the Word assumd,
May GOD by Man to bee drawne foorth presumd?
Sith that the Law, this madnesse to restraine,
Midst flames of fire was not given foorth in vaine,
Nor now is made lesse valide, than before
A Mortall vaile the King of Glory wore.
Nor cause draw foorth or grave the Shape they saw;
If none of all Our Lord's obsequious Trayne,
His Will durst write, but whom Hee did ordaine;
Beyond commission ev'n if none of Those
That wrote, His Shape might to the World expose;
If none may, by Himselfe, this honour reach
Except by Christ thrust foorth Christ yet to preach,
Shall it to painters only bee left free,
CHRIST'S shape and Lineaments to falsifie,
Even though no warrant doth their worke invite,
Nor having seene what to set foorth they sweate.
CHRIST crucifi'd n'ere right considred haue,
Ne're more to bee repeated, did afford
Himselfe a living Sacrifice for Sinne,
Vpon the Crosse, lost Man from hell to winne,
Himselfe Hee did expose to suffer death,
Shame, paine, and dolour, ev'n the Father's wrath,
No more to bee the object of the Eye,
Though by the Eare oft crucified to bee.
Hee for a season was but to sustaine,
So was the Shame which Nakednesse did give,
Not all his other suffrings to sur-vive.
Sufficientlie now suffred open shame,
Even at mid-day Hee drew the vaile of night,
About His naked Bodie, so the sight
Of gazing eyes (with clowds eclipsd) did stay,
Enlightning Some, who midst those mists did stray,
Them making see, while weakest made, His Might,
Sinne's clowds dispel'd, which did their soules benight.
With vaine Inventions who God's worship mixe,
Serves to no other end, but as it may,
Christ's Body naked to the eye to lay.
And to expose His long-past Shame to sight,
Hiding the Glorious vaile of darkned light,
By which more honord was that Prince of Peace
Than Nakednesse, or Iews did Him disgrace.
(Though all in vaine) thus boldly to depriue,
Preassing presumptuously, in Christ's despight,
To prorogate the shortned shame of Sight.
Such Paterne, such the Purtraite: both most vaine.
The Painter's fantasie the patterne is:
The Purtrait only must resemble this,
That Man true CHRIST should know, who boyles with hate,
And studies still to forme in man's fond braine,
False Christs; or of the True, conceats prophane,
Doth Parent to this purtrat's Patterne proue,
Hatcht in the Crafts-man's head as hee doth moue.
The Crucifixe, Child of the Paynter's Thought,
Oye to this Lying Spirit, thus forth brought
By arte, as carefull Midwif's helping hand,
Is from the painfull wretch receiued; who fand,
And did more labour in this Birth sustaine,
As hee opinion did conceiue of gaine.
See how the wretch doth in his Worke delight,
Hee gazeth, wondreth, narrowly doth pry,
Striues if hee can the least escape espy,
Proport'oning by due esteeme its worth,
As longsome paines, and labour brought it forth,
Which in each feature, finding now compleat,
As to adorne some Temple only meet,
Hee to the Preist presents't, who streight doth giue
It Name; yea, Holinesse, as some beleeue.
By Charmes, by Exorcisme of Magick art,
With Salt, and Water Christned thus a part,
With Pardons priuiledg't, with Odors sweet
Perfumd, with Altars honord, Head and Feet
Anoynted, Torches lighted, Gifts presented,
Made fitt for Pilgrimes now to bee frequented,
Erected last, in place most eminent,
The Never-Erring-Clergie giue consent,
That it shall stand to bee admir'd, ador'd,
Kiss'd, reverenc'd, crouch'd before, embrac'd, implor'd,
The Holy Crucifixe from hence forth cald,
Or, On His Crosse the KING OF GLORIE nail'd.
The base credulitie of their condition,
Approues the Error, ratifies the Deed,
With them this Crucifixe doth credit plead,
Which in affinity or Shape more neare
As they conceiue, the Holier doth appeare.
Ioyntly fall down, and with devotion due,
As many Pater-nosters doe repeat
By number of their beads, as they finde meet,
To this New-Christned-CHRIST; and, as acquent
With Tongues their sutes in Latin must bee sent,
To This not sparing, with blasphemous breath,
The Honour of Latria to bequeath,
Preferring it to all the Heauenly Quire,
Or Crownde aboue, or Militating heere,
Of Angels, Saints; euen to that Mother-Maide,
The Queene of Heauen, (of Her if truth be said).
Some shift in place of Reason must bee fain'd:
These subtile Sophists, wittie in invention,
Doe pleade by vertue of their good intention,
The honour to the Crucifixe ascriv'd,
The Purtrate first, by Crafts-man hand contriu'd,
Doth hit, but streight sent back, is vpwards driven,
And by Reflexe doth sklent hye way to Heauen,
Possessing such as see with others' eyes,
This By-way worship CHRIST no lesse doth please,
Than on these Tables earst by God's owne hand
Engrav'd, it had beene left th'eleaventh Command.
Who in Intention make Devotion stand,
If simple Women in their Husbands' places,
May warrantably yeeld to strange embraces,
And if it passe may for a just excuse,
That their Intention Them did not abuse,
Themselues subject, vnto their Husbands true,
And, if those Husbands, wrong'd in such a sort,
Thus to bee mockt and cousind, ought comport,
And over-looke this as a light offence,
Which Ignorance doth challenge in defence?
This, without shame, these Clerks can not approue,
Except some Intrest having in this Loue.
In such as on God's Light their eyes doe shoote,
That on all hazard will goe on Their way,
With them or walke, or stumble, stand, or stray?
Yet can not serve; all of this numbrous Crew,
For private vse One must peculiar haue,
To beare about Him, even vnto His graue.
Enricht with gold and Iewels, These are borne
The breasts of Dames of Honor to adorne,
Which not beseeming Vulgars (as too deare),
The Poorer sort doe Poorer Christlings weare
Of polisht Ivorie, of gilded Glasse,
Of glistring Horne, of Copper, Tinne, or Brasse,
Which by the Priest if hallow'd, so much more
Held worthie are of Worship, than before.
A Holy man is more like Christ than all the artificiall pictures in the earth, & more worthie of honour for His cause; yet if any man for holinesse were so worshiped as the popish crucifixe, a honest hearted papist would scoūder at that Idolatrie, and why not now, but because he beliveth the Romish Church cannot erre.
Who with our Lord more neare resemblance hath,
To Him more deare, and held of greater worth,
Than all the Images art can bring foorth,
In whom this Spirit, Life, and Grace doth shine,
Whom a most neere conjunction doth combine,
And whom CHRIST (one day) though despised now,
Shall not think shame His Brother to avow,
Yet if this Saint of God, adored were,
Cald on, as senselesse Crucifixes are,
The World anone the sacriledge should see,
Cry out against this vile Idolatrie,
Worship, or divine Honour should bee given,
But now when greater measure they bequeath,
To Stockes, to Stones, to Idoles voyde of breath,
They neither can, nor will their Error spy,
So darkned hath the devill their Reason's eye,
Or, to damnation poasting on amaine,
Dare in vnrighteousnesse the truth detaine.
To mocked sight lyes only setting foorth,
Bookes which pervsd, leaue Ignorants more rude,
Gulling the World but with imagind goode,
To CHRIST disgracefull, breeding in man's braine
Conceats of Him but carnall, and prophaine,
What Hee left buryed preassing to proclame,
His Glory darkning with disgrace and shame,
Loosing these bands insep'rably vnite,
By which both Natures in one Person meete,
Men's Faith diverting from that solide stay
The only Rocke, the Life, the Truth, the Way,
Vpon a Shadow fondly to rely
Which CHRIST shall (one day) to bee His deny,
As being only the Resemblance vaine
And Birth fantastick of the Painter's braine,
Who, though hee boldly playde the cunning Ape,
Did never see, nor could set foorth His shape,
The Honour then to This bequeathd, must even
Neids-force, bee to a filthie Idole given.
Poysning pure Soules with a pestifrous stinke,
To bee abhor'd, and held in just neglect,
Of all, true CHRIST who truly doe affect,
And on that Purtrate long to fixe their eye,
Drawne by his Spirit, which the soule must see,
In Holie Write, that Mirror most divine,
In which His Image Gloriously doth shine,
By Faith is seene, and doth by Sight renew,
So working on the Soule which doth behold,
That thus it lookes as from another mold,
Both to the selfe and Others seeming strange,
Turnd in its liknesse by a gracious change;
So by the Spirit quickned is this Meane,
That heere if CHRIST thy Faith hath truly seene,
Thou shalt His Shape take on, bee like Him made,
Adornd with Glorie which shall never fade,
In Thee this Image, whence all Grace doth flow,
From Glorie shall to further Glorie grow,
Each faithfull Looke on This, of force shall bee
Some gracious effect to worke in Thee.
Sweete IESVS CHRIST, the Crowne of thy desires;
Come, Thou who loues on Him to looke aright
(Abhorring Counterfits which mock the sight)
Whose face alone doth true content afford,
Come, heere behold thy Loue, thy Life, thy LORD.
Thy Soule must glas'd in this same Mirror bee,
Thy breast's most inward Cabins must bee sought,
Thy selfe made Center of thy Circling thought:
Thou must not skarre vpon thy Soares to looke,
To read thy dittay in that sacred Booke,
As thou by Nature art from Grace exild,
With Miserie surcharg't, with sinne defyld,
Procliue to fall, to perish by and by
Without remeed, if pitty Christ deny;
As dead in Sinne, till quickned by His Grace
Already damn'd till Hee the doome deface;
Lost, on His shoulders till Hee home thee take,
God's Enemie till Hee the friendship make,
The Devill's bound slave, still ragging on in Ill
Till He redeeme thee, and renew thy Will;
Till Hee thee teach to know thy God aright,
Thy heart a Seminary, which doth breed
And nurse of all kind wickednesse the seed
Till by his Spirit purg'd; a Child in short
Of Sathan, miserable in each sort,
Till hee Regenerate, thy soule endue
With Grace, and make of thee a Creature new.
Thee, thy estate to mourne and seeke remeed,
Behold that Lambe a Lyon, full of Ire,
An angrie Iudge, a hotte consuming Fire,
Thee citing, whom no misery can draw,
By terrifying Trumpet of His Law,
Araign'd, before His fearfull Throne to stand,
Condemn'd in Conscience, trembling foot, and hand,
His awful Eyes, which Flames and Lightning dart,
The deepest Darkes of thy deceaved heart
Shall search: none needs to tell Him what thy breast
Keeps buried from the World: the Most the Least
Nor of thy Words, nor Deeds can Him escape:
The Thoughts most secreit, which thy Soule did shape,
Even ere outbreaking wilfull Involution
Thee guiltie made by Actuall pollution,
Before Him muster: He can open lay
All that make vp thy dreadfull Dittay may.
Though with the foole Thou in thy Heart hast said
There was no GOD thy foule Misdeeds to marke,
Thy Words to view committed in the darke,
Or to avenge the wrongs thou boldly wrought,
As to a reckning never to bee brought;
Though while the LORD did patiently forbeare,
But like thy selfe, Hee did to the appeare,
Thou shalt Him comming vnto thee behold,
These sinnes which thou committed vncontrold,
No circumstance omitted; Time nor Place.
Thy Nat'rall Conscience rub'd, by Nature's light,
In their commission, beeing set to view,
Then, shall another sight of sinne enswe:
Sinnes of Omission laying to thy charge,
The Good vndone requiring at thy hand
Which to performe, or Law or duty band,
Thus shall hee judge thee guiltie of neglect
Of things which thou didst never wrong suspect;
The vnadvysed Passions of thy Pride
Which thou couldst never curbe, a cause thou must
Acknowledge now of thy Damnation just.
By wanton gestures, by lascivious lookes,
Thee shall Hee make convince, a Wretch most vile
Whom Whoredome and Adultery did defile.
To wound thy Brother's fame, or wrong his Worth
No light or veniall sinne (as men now speake)
Hee shall admitt, but such as Wrath shall eake,
Thee rendring worthy of eternall Ire,
The wofull object made of quenchlesse Fire.
Behold Him, charging Earth with open Wombe
To swallow over and aliue entombe
Thy proud ambitious Spirit, still repining
While thou in Darknesse art, at others Shining.
Thy filth to clenge with Fire and Brimstone bent,
Readie to strike to death thy guilefull Heart
Which, with thy double tongue confed'rat, parte
Taks gainst the Truth: Thee readie to devowre
With Vermine, (creatures though of meanest pow're,)
Thou crownst thy selfe, GOD roabing of his right.
Against thy base Hypocrisie, in show
Who other seem'd, then ever in effect
Thou was, or truly didst to be, respect,
Even to thy face, not mongst thy least offences,
To thy disgrace discou'ring thy Pretences,
Whom wordly aymes, whom private ends did leade
Religion but to follow, for thy bread.
Which thou a fit Apologie hast thought,
Shall for a just excuse admitt, for thee
More slacke in serving of thy God to bee.
Him shalt thou (on day) in the Clowds of Heaven
See, seperating soules Impenitent,
Such Goates as Thee, to all vncleannesse bent,
From His owne Deare-Ones, His selected Sheepe
His voice decerning who his ways did keepe.
If thou from sinne doe not in time reteare;
Once Hee hath sayd, and yet againe will say
Depart Accursed, to be damn'd for ay,
Yee Workers of Iniquitie, (and none
More guiltie than thy selfe thou maist suppone),
In endlesse Fyre, in everlasting Paine
Prepared for the Devill and all his Traine,
Of which are all, who drencht with sinfull spaite,
Lye buried in their Naturall estate,
Even thou, as long as Vnrenew'd by grace,
And dost vnchangt continue in this cace
Deferring to that gracious Iudge to sue
The Sonne of God, by absolution true,
Cancell thy debts, thy Conscience calm'd make feele
The fruit of his forgivenesse; give thee Peace,
That true Tranquillity, which finds no place
In Pardons given by men, for gayne procuird,
In All at least, who ever haue endurd
The Inward tempest of a sin-tos'd soule,
Looking aright vpon that fearefull Scroule
Of accusations, having layd to heart
The Nature of GOD'S Iustice, Sinne's desart.
Perceav'd, the Vengance due to Thee by right
If thence, thy soule with inward Terrors shaken,
By Iustice, trembling stands, to be o're-taken:
If feele thou dost a gnawing Worme torment
Thy vexed conscience, but with ease acquent,
Stinging thy heart, which with remembrance bleeds,
Of long-long buried, and of late Misdeeds,
Kindling in thee sparkes of that quenchlesse Fire,
Sent foorth as Messingers of further Ire
In time to warne Thee what abids for ay
All, that in Sinne without Repentance stay;
If from Aboue some sharpe correcting Rod
Hath made thee see an awfull angrie God
Quickning in thee some Spunke of true desire
His Peace to haue, gainst whom thou didst conspire,
Renouncing henceforth to bee Sathan's slaue,
In life renew'd resolv'd thy sinnes to leaue,
In this pure Mirror thou mayst then make bold
Sweet Iesus Christ thy Saviour to behold
A readie Mediator full of grace,
Pleading thy Pardon and eternall Peace;
A Fountaine open'd, living streams distilling,
In David's house, with Heavenly water filling
Thy thirsting Soule. That true Physitian
The precious balme of grace who only can
Though nought but leprous spots in thee bee seene;
The Angell of the Covenant, who brings
To Sinners, healing vnderneath His wings,
A Mercie seate, the Tables of the Law
To hide, whose challenge Thee in Iudgment draw.
An Altar, from whose Hornes of safe protection
God's justice most severe gainst sinnes infection
Man never banish'd, for refuge who fled,
Or whom to Him the Hope of Mercie led.
A Citie, where in safety to reside
And beare the Devill and all the World at fead,
Whose Ports shoote never, ever patent bee
To all, that from persuing Iustice flee.
A saving Arke where thou secure mayst rest
Where inward feares, nor foes can thee infest,
Where thou most safe mayst ly, though Heavens should weepe
Even floods of wrath man from Earth's face to sweepe.
A gratious Aaron, reaching forth his hand
Who doth with Incense in his Censor stand
To stay the Plague of sinne, on thee begunne
(Without Remeed) ere thou bee over-runne.
How such as went before Thee furthred haue:
To eate, to drink, Loe! He did not disdaine
With Publicanes, with persons most prophane,
Curing their sinnes: vile Whoores, adultrous Goates
Hee gathers in, and purgeth all their spots.
Most covetous Extortioners find grace,
None are debard who mourne to Him their cace.
Come, O yee Weary, Come yee loaden all,
Draw neare my Deare-Ones, I will giue you rest,
Your Soules in peace shall hence-foorth bee possest;
“For succour, in no cace I can forsake.”
If still the sence of Wrath thy Soule perplexe,
If still the hope-exyling feares remaine
That justice shall, with never-ceassing paine
For sinne, at last, sease on thy guiltie Soule,
A righteous God, who boldly durst controule:
And, if thou canst not yet be brought to see
How GOD can pardon such a wretch as thee,
So vile a worthlesse wormeling, by desart
Who worthie of hel's deepest dungeon art,
Looke on the Mirror then; See, from aboue,
Of GOD the Father the vnbounded loue,
Who, when He All haue damnd in justice might,
So lovd the World, that He His chiefe delight
His Sonne Eternall, Second of these Three
Which still make vp a Trinall Vnitie,
To mortall Man did gift, in time a Child
Heere to be borne, to Man from grace exild,
Whose Name and Nature thereto made agree
Our blest Immanuel, GOD with vs, should bee,
The Mightie God in humane flesh, and feature,
GOD reconcealed vnto manly Nature,
That Hee man's Persons might to GOD conceale,
And that through Him GOD'S friendship Man might feele:
Whose searchlesse Wisdome so profound appeares
That thence the name of Wonderfull He beares,
For, wonderfully Hee found out a Way
Man to set free, and fully to defray
His debts, the Iustice Infinite contenting,
And of an angrie GOD the rage relenting;
A Way, to make on Thee, while even God's foe
The boundlesse Fountaine of His Mercie flow,
Sinnes pressing load, and God's Eternall Wrath.
In ev'ry point compleetly to fulfill,
Thy Cautioner, who to procure thy Peace
(A bankrupt vnthrift, prodigall of grace)
That from Rebellion thou relax'd might bee,
By satisfaction full did set thee free,
Himselfe for thee a Sacrifice presenting,
Ere loue thou couldst Him, thee with loue preventing.
Even in thy Name and Roome, by sinne exild,
Washd as a Sinner, by the clenging streame
Of Baptisme, sinfull in the world's esteeme,
The Father audibly from Heaven expressing,
And fully pleasd in Him, Himselfe professing
That Hee should Suretie bee, thy burden beare,
And charging thee againe His voice to heare.
But boile with flames of vehement desire
To heare Him calling, Come, O weary wight
If vex'd with inward feares, or outward spight,
Come mourning Soule, in conscience opprest,
Vnder my wings securely take thee rest?
And follow Him that cals, thou needst not feare
That thou assaulted, shall a shelter lake,
That wrath shall thee persue, or overtake.
Twixt GOD and Christ (now) covenant is past
In thy behalfe: and Christ accordingly
Hath suffered, absolv'd and ransond thee.
Thou for thy Warrant hast, what should thee moue?
The Truth and Strength not subject to decay
Twixt GOD and Christ for Man, twixt God and Man
In Christ, which nothing change, or alter can,
Doe thee secure; what need'th thee doubt or feare?
That thou shouldst perish, Christ thee bought too deare.
And build thy faith on a most solide ground?
The Man, who doth thy Mediator stand
Is also GOD: doth all this All command.
Hee, worthy pardon is for thee to pleade:
When Hee maks sute for what thou standst in neede,
The Father can not what Hee asks forsake:
Hee Greater is than a repulse to take.
Hee High is as the Highest to appeare,
And God for sinne offended, to draw neare,
Before whose face no creature dare be found,
When frowning, Hee His anger doth vnbound.
Man likewayes is, Man's Sonne, and Man's Creator.
Thy Kinse-Man in the flesh, to thee more neare
Than any Saint, or was, or can bee, heere.
Though He that Loftie One, that Great One bee
Who Ever-blest, endwelth Eternitie,
Yet daind He hath (thee to lift vp and saue
Though even the basest and most abject slaue)
Himselfe to humble, and stowp downe more low
Then any other able was to doe,
Himselfe Hee emptied, did the Crosse take on,
Was made of reputation small, or none,
Was peircd, was presd with paine, to clenge thy score,
A shamefull death endurd: What wouldst thou more?
(By vnion such, as nature can not find)
How easie thing it is for GOD to doe
Thence see thou mayst, tho Sinne hath made disvnion,
To make thy Person haue with Him Communion.
Behold, how by this vnion personall
Of Persons not, but Natures: naturall
Sense all transcending, Sathan conquered lyes,
Even by that Nature He did first entyse.
Thy LORD on Him assum'd thy humane Nature
That Hee of thee might make a divine creature,
Abaisd Himselfe the Sonne of man to bee,
To make to GOD a chosen child of thee.
Thus shalt thou see how thou, vnworthy grace,
Mayst bee receav'd, through Him mayst favour find
Who, though thou faultie, loving is and kind.
To saue, to comfort, and to cherish His;
The soules of trembling sinners doth sustaine
While seeming swallow'd vp, with sense of paine,
With inward anguish, and thou nought shalt see
In God from grace to let or hinder thee.
The Worke of Man's salvation to perfite,
Such Offices did daine to vndertake
As for thy well and safety best did make.
Thus strengthned thou more boldly mayst draw neare
The Throne of grace, to bee exeemd of feare,
Set free from thy rebellion, so eschue
The Vengance to thy disobedience due.
To the Eternall Monarch of the skies,
While in the Father's bosome, God alone
Man's flesh as yet not having taken on,
God's Mysteries, to man deserving death,
His Counsells deepe reveald, His secreets spred,
And Man againe to know His Maker led.
The holy land, and (even His foes among)
In proper person preacht in ev'ry place
Glade tydings to the Soule that mournd for grace,
And yet by Preachers' mouths continues still
Revealing to the world His Father's will.
A Lambe vnspotted, Once for all, and ay,
Hee offred vp Himselfe, the world from sinne
To purge, o're hell the Victorie to winne,
A Sacrifice most perfitly to saue
And sanctifie throughout, no spot to leaue
Vnpurgt, in all, through Him who accesse clame
To God, salvation vrging in His name.
All over-sprinkled of His owne deare blood,
Enters the Holyest Sanctuary of Heaven
To repossesse Man thence most justly driven,
Our Names vpon His breast, and shoulders bearing
With heart's affection, and with strength appearing
His owne poore mourning Weake Ones to sustaine,
That they with God may still in grace remaine.
O're Heaven, o're Earth o're hell to beare command
As King, as Conqu'ror, captiues to rescue,
The tyrannie of Sathan to subdue,
From thraldome to set free all that desire
To bee releev'd from wrath, from Sinne's Impire.
Monarch of Monarchs, King of Kings to bee,
With vniuersall pow're, to rule, to raigne
God over All, All's onely Soveraigne,
For well of His; those Proudlings to oppose
Who boldly dare presume to vexe or wrong
The meanest member that doth Him belong,
To whom Hee lists eternall life to giue,
To damne to death, from death or to reviue,
His foes to make his foot-stoole: pestring downe,
All godlesse Atheists, traytors to his crowne
That Him contemne, or dare His Scepter slight
Them making feele His powre, His boundlesse might.
And seeke that Hee in friendship thee may take?
God's loue is free, and firme; no change admits,
Continues to the end, and never flits;
His Truth both seald, and sworne, doth thee secure
By way of Cov'nant, which shall ay endure.
In this cleare Mirror, Thine by double right
Is made, to thee twice sibbe who groanst for grace,
The Sonne of God, the Seede of mortall race,
Twice Brother's Hee become; by Incarnation
Himselfe for thee to make a fit Oblation:
By thy adoption; even with Him to share
The Heritage, of Heaven to bee made heyre.
From Sinne and wrath thy straying soule to leade
Loe, Hee a Prophet is, who peace doth preach
Draw neere, Him hearken: Hee the way shall teach.
Behold, a Priest Hee doth for thee appeare,
Who all His friends, or friends that seeke to bee,
Hath by one Sacrifice, for ay, set free.
To runne to God, or flee from Sathan's feete,
Who can rayse vp the weakest vnderling.
As Prophet Hee expones, perswads; assurd
To make His owne of safety: shall at last
As King apply, conforme to Paction past.
From God's great Treasure, opned for his cause
To our behoue, who as he dayly pleads
For vs, by priestly Intercession speeds.
In holy Write, as Prophet doth afford
Perspicuous, by his Spirit made most plaine,
That Gratious Doctor, Teacher of His Trayne.
(And what in Him can bee by God denyed?)
Hee doth as King gainst all thy foes maintaine
To settle thee, in peace with Him to raigne.
Courage dejected soule; thou needst not feare;
Ryse, follow on, Thou in this Glasse shalt see
CHRIST'S GLORY shining more and more to thee.
If hope of mercie thee to feele hath led
Some spunk of life, some woontlesse warmnesse glow
Within thy bosome, making tears to flow
Of godly sorrow, mixd of Griefe and love,
Thy frozen heart begunne to melt and moue;
Behold how hee hath breath, as thou dost Mourne
To make thy faintly-smoaking flaxe to burne,
And tenderly, till greater strength it breed,
Of thy weake Fayth doth touch the bruised reed.
Layd at his feete, his pittie doth enforce,
Rejected not, because despisd and meane;
How much more thee shall Hee receaue in grace
Who running comst, layst out to Him thy cace,
With bleeding heart dost His compassion plead,
Seeking to thy diseased Soule remeed?
Behold His bottle filling with thy teares,
With that Sweete Saint, for sinne, in sense of wrath
With luke-warme floods when thou thy cheeks dost bath,
With Her sitts mourning, powring from thine eyes
In heartie love, thy greeved Lord to please,
Streames to be-dew and washe His sacred Feete,
That Hee may cleanse, and for Himselfe make meete
Thy spotted Soule, who nought esteemest too rare
Too pretious, on Himselfe, or cause to ware.
Thy mourning, thy devotion doe despise,
Thy LORD, who (one day) shall thy paynes compense,
Thou speaking mayst perceave in thy defence:
Loe Hee, a Banner of His love doth spread,
And to his owne Wine-sellers thee doth leade,
That by his flagons comfort thou mayst fynd,
Hartning thy sorrow with his favours kynd,
The earnst thee giving of that gratious day
When from thine eyes, teares Hee shall wipe away.
Hee shall his Seale vpon thy forehead set
That the Destroyer thus may warning get,
The wicked World while floods of vengance bath,
Thee to discerne, from mongst the Sonnes of wrath.
His lightsome burthen; which repenteth none
That ever it did beare: which all makes glad
On whomsoever Hee the same hath layd.
His Law vpon thy back, thy sinnes to slay,
So to presse foorth thy old impostumd soares,
But not to harme thee, who his Peace implores.
Thy flesh and vitious Nature, must bee slayne:
Thou must not shrinke at sense of outward Payne.
Stretch forth thy necke, thy hands, thy feete, thy heart,
That Hee may bind it on: that, (hence) for ay
None, saue thy Lord, thy service challenge may.
Loe! that thy yoke may light and easie bee
Hee goes before Himselfe and drawes with thee,
Yea both thy yoke and thee Hee drawes; and beares
Thee, wrestling with thy burthen who appeares.
Goe on: O never, never leave thy LORD
Where ere Hee leads thee; Hee will strength afford.
Hee no where els Thee shall invite to goe
But where before, the way Himselfe did show.
Then when secure thou layst in sinne's dark night,
Redoubling his assaults, Thee vexing more,
Presenting bayts more frequent then before?
Behold thy LORD, whom HEAVEN, whom Earth obeys,
In Wildernesse, alone, twice twentie dayes
With apparitions visible frequented,
Not from that Ill-One's firie darts exempted.
If Christ hee durst attempt to make his Thrall,
Whom gainst his dints Hee knew a brazen wall,
What wonder thee a weakling hee entyse,
To his persute whose soule oft guardlesse lyes?
Him streight dis-arme? The Victorie is thine.
This Combate to thy safety hath relation,
Heere Sathan also made before thee flee,
Thy selfe in CHRIST victorious thou mayst see.
And with the finger heere and there to crosse,
Scorne thou, as fruitlesse freets, least Sathan slight
And scorne such weapons should resist his might.
Thy friends (before) thy fellowship forsake?
Now art thou hated, since by gratious change
Thy former life become to thee is strange?
Now pointed at? because to sin thou shunnes
And no more to thy wonted ryot runnes?
Now doe the wicked louse their tongues to lyes,
Traducing thy profession as they please,
Not sparing even thy person, cens'ring thee
Or madde, or foolish, or precise to bee?
Behold thy LORD, exposd to like despight,
Vexd, mockt, persued, with malice greatest might,
Despysd, opprest, the marke of envy made,
A common foe for all men to invade.
See how Hee comes vnto His Owne by Blood,
By bonds of nature, even by them withstood,
Rejected, not receiv'd, but mett in place
Of kindlie acceptation, with disgrace.
A Man, beside Himselfe, in their esteeme
Behold the Saviour of the world doth seeme:
Him they mistake, and seeke to apprehend
As if His countrie's foe, not Cæsar's friend,
Even one whose course, (which they not rightly saw)
Their State might touch, themselues in danger draw.
Heere, with a severall affront did meet.
But while His course Hee closd, O griefe! O teares!
See how unmov'd, what bitter taunts Hee beares.
While suffring midst His Paines, the Hight of Scorne,
Which more than all the Stripes, His Soule did racke,
Which scourging Burrio's layd vpon His backe.
Behold, they nod the head, they bow the knee;
Who Wisdome was, to them a foole must bee.
The Honorable Sonne of God they floute,
And put a Purpure garment Him about,
A Crowne of Thornes, vpon His holy head,
And in His harmelesse hand a brittle Reede
Worthy no other Scepter, in their thought:
With shame, with scorne to death He thus was brought.
“LORD Thou, that I should liue, who daind to die,
“Thy servant and disciple make of mee,
“Though I with Thee should suffer, even while heere,
“Scorne, spight, contempt, wrong most unjustlie beare,
“Which, to my sight, thou standst, by my procuring,
“Before the eyes of liuelie faith enduring.”
Looke on thy Lord, whom care did ne'er perplexe
Of wordly Wealth; who heere did liue content
To serue Himself with what His servants lent;
Those holy Matrons who did Him attend
Vnto His death, who did permit to spend
Their proper goods, forth for His vse to lay,
The charges of His Iourney to defray.
Who being tax'd did Tribute-money lake:
Whom house, nor hold did ever owner make:
In poore estate most meanely who was borne;
Whose offring, which the Altar did adorne
The poore-man's Pigeons was, the Turtle doves;
In Ioseph's house his life not Rich could bee:
A poorer spoyle the Sunne did never see
Than at His death His foes did part by lote,
His greatest wealth a sober seamelesse coate.
Griefe of all straits can not asswage to thee,
Looke on the riches of spirituall grace
Which hee on all bestowes, His steps who trace.
Loe, heyre Hee is of Heaven and Earth: of all,
And with Himselfe Co-Heyre annexe thee shall,
Yea will not (heere) with thee so sharply deale
But (as best sutes His Glorie, and thy well)
Both will, and can provide, that thou nor lacke
Foode for thy bellie, cloathing for thy back.
And, though thou seest not how, yet take not care,
His providence to Sparrowes in the ayre,
To Lillyes of the field, to every thing
Which His eternall Word to life did bring
Extended is, and (as to him seemes best)
Thy Portion furnish shall amongst the rest.
Enlarg't, the lytle measure of thy Meale,
Thy Cruise of Oyle sufficient, thee to feede
Till more Hee send, to last as thou hast need,
Can in thy greatest troubles thee vphold,
Cause that thy Garments, nor thy shoes waxe old,
And if Hee but a dish of Pulse propine
Aboue thy fellows can thy face make shine;
Hee multiply thy lytle, even thy least,
Can, though a daye's provision thou but hast,
As easily it makes to hundreths streach
As for fiue Thousand Soules hee earst made reach
(With plentie fed,) those Loaues and fishes few,
For Fyue alone which els were but enew.
He, for thy vse, in wine can Water change:
Yea living streams can give thee, if he list,
Which tasted once, thou never more shall thrist.
A Fish, with money in its mouth, be driven
Shalt on thy Hooke, Ravens feede thee Noone and Even,
Heaven's Manna rayne, the flintie Rocke shall serue
Thy thirst to quench, ere thou for want doe starue.
“O that I may (Lord) for thy Kingdome care,
“Thee aboue all things serue; so shall I feare
“Adversitie nor want: thus what may ayde
“My vext estate, shall to my hand be layde.
If Rich thou bee, take heede vncertaine wealth
Steale not thy heart, thy soule deprive of health:
Trust not therein; be not puft vp with pride
Of things, on Eagles' wings which swiftly slyde,
Fixe thou on Him alone thine heart, thine Eye,
To make Thee Rich, who poore did chuse to bee.
O! let thy humble Cariage, modest mynde,
Thy thoughts with moderation confind,
Beare witnesse, that thou pure in Spirit art,
That thou dost thirst and hunger in thy heart
To bee inriched with that Righteousnesse
Which CHRIST still gifts, yet never is made lesse.
Bee greedie of His golde; O begge to weare
His Garments, that thou glorious mayst appeare,
That truly rich, thou mayst thy selfe present
To God; in wealth, in want alike content.
These earthly things, but solide as a dreame,
More worthy than they are, doe not esteeme,
But for thy Lord's vse, seeke to vse them, so
That on their Owner thou mayst them bestow:
Whom if thou see, or in his Churches neede
Or Any of his Saints, thy pittie pleade,
To help the cause belonging to His care,
His poore distressed Brethren to relieue
In whom His grace and Image shineth viue,
A horrible Ingratitude must bee,
Yea even a damnable Impietie.
Thee so assaile, as hard is to comport,
Looke on thy LORD, how torturd for thy sake,
Scourg'd backe and sides, God's wrath, thy paynes to slake,
See how his pretious bloode for thee is shed,
To Calvary with shame, along while led,
With which the senselesse streets all red, seem'd blushing,
While bath'd with Rivers from his woundes foorth gushing.
Not in a masse of mettell which doth stand
Him suffring to set foorth: a living Man
Thy object is; what spight, what malice can
Enduring on the Crosse; a publicke wonder,
Whose Legs and Armes streatchd foorth, neere rackt asunder,
Not suffered were to stand, as to His griefe
The least-least meanes afford might of reliefe,
But as most obvious to the Souldiers' minde
They might bee found, His Bones to breake combinde.
His flesh doth yeeld (while being down-ward prest).
Gaping and growing Wounds, still made more large,
As more His Weight His tender Hands doth charge.
For other Paines who opned not His mouth,
With this of all most vehemently delt.
O see, how He His weary Neck extends
And languishing, with ready mouth attends
To drink the offred Vinegar and Gall,
His burning Thirst to quench, to Finish All,
Of which the bitter sowrenesse proving, straight
A very Tast to Him becomes a draught.
This Ruefull sight presented to thine eyes,
Inward or outward Paynes may serue to ease,
Grieues all allay, giue Patience to comport,
Till God thy Dolours slaken, in some sort.
Looke on the Price that purchast All to thee,
His Stripes did make thee whole: thy LORD did beare
Thy Maladyes, that thou mightst sound appeare.
Hee thy Infirmities on Him did take,
Thy Health to thee a Blessing thus to make,
And that thy sicklie Soule might whole bee found,
Whose stat's oft worst, thy Body while most sound.
“O that I may Lord whollie heere imploy
“My selfe, while health, while strength I doe enjoy,
“In serving Thee; and, to my dayes as length
“Thou addst, I loue Thee may with greater strength,
“That so, while health and strength, as shads shall flee,
“Both sound and strong I may bee found in Thee.”
Doth long discent, vn-discontinued race
Of hon'rable Ancestors, make thee place,
Worldly Preheminence to thee beget
Aboue the Simpler Sort, below thee set?
Art thou a Noble, or some speciall Peere
So Great as thy Inferiors thee admire?
From the Ignoble Vulgar thee seclude?
In this forbeare to glorie; but behold
Thy Lord of Royall Linage, Race most Old,
A BRAUNCH whose blood deriv'd from David's stemme
Did make Him right to weare a Diademe,
A King, respecting even His Manhoode, borne;
Yet, all proud thoughts of Pedegries to scorne,
Himselfe abasd, in Grace to make vs Great,
And (though a Personage of High estate)
Became most low, vs Hon'rable to make
Even our Dishonour on Himselfe did take.
“O seeke Nobilitie, which ne'er shall fade,
“Honour from which thee no man can degrade,
“By seeking right in Him, a Child to bee
Of GOD; true Honour's most supreme degree.
Art thou by birth Ignoble, Base, Obscure?
Behold thy Glorious King in state as poore,
As meane as thou, descended, thee to raise,
Even with Himselfe thee to possesse and sease,
Not in a State but lasting for a day,
But of a Kingdome made secure for ay,
Vpon a Throne thee freely to set downe
To swey a Scepter, and to weare a crowne.
The bruckle braunches of vaineglorious wayes,
If Noble, yet to swell with Pride doth chuse,
And seekst ambitiouslie all meanes to vse
To proppe thy worldlie Credite, with profane
And worthlesse wretches, who no Course disdaine
May further their base Ends, affecting Praise
Of Men, their Names upon Fame's wings to raise,
Blind to behold that Glorie, to bee found
With GOD, which seene, all such Desires doth bound;
And on thy Lord to looke with greater Care;
Yea, neede thou hast to Touch, from Him that so
Vertue to heale this Vanitie may flow.
(Himselfe thy Patterne) true Humilitie;
Inviting thee who to His Schoole dost seeke
To learne of Him, who lowly is and meeke.
See, how to purge thy Soule of stinking Pride,
The God of Glorie, Glorie layes aside,
A Servant's shape assumes, a Man most meane
Becomes; mongst Publicanes and Sinners seene,
To winne them home: Himselfe associating
Even to the Basest, Good to them to bring,
Accesse and speech to None, when askd, denying,
Most homelie with His friends, on Him relying.
With these Hee sits whose Table turnes their snare,
His traine attending, till He baselie haue
By surfetting become his bellyes slave;
But hungring oft, and thirsting for thy sake,
His sober Trayne doth His Companions make,
Serv'd at one Table, feeding even as Hee;
Whose feete from filth that He might wash, O see
How with a Towell girt about Hee stands,
And stowping downe, with Basen twixt His hands,
With humble Heart performs that service meane,
And wipes them with the Linnen, thus made cleane,
The Greatest teaching who His Schollers are,
For Him their Pride to mortifie so far
That to His Least-ones, though despisd they lye,
The meanest charge in loue they not deny.
Wilt thou, to be His Servant who makes show,
Lodge in a haughtie heart soule-poysning Pride,
Who glory canst, as thine, of nought beside
Or in thy Lord no part thou needst to clame.
Humble Lord Iesus mongst His lowlie traine
Doth no ambitious servants intertaine.
Both Paradice and Heaven spewd out once haue
The Proud, and such can never back receaue.
Thy GOD, thy selfe nor suffring Thee to know;
Thee, if High place so please, that nought beside
Can serue to feed the fire-brand of thy Pride,
Why thus O Foole! art thy affection fird
With what thou canst nor haue, nor keepe, acquird?
Why doth their worldly Greatnesse thee intyse,
Who nothing lesse than Vertue's worth can prise?
Why pin'st thou for Preferment? Casts thy care
On things which may thy inward Peace impare?
Is earthlie Dignitie to Thee so deare,
In it thy Happinesse esteeming heere,
That, (with all danger) thou darst it imbrace,
By this prejudg't though of a better Place?
Vaine Glorie-hunter change in time thy course,
Leaue taynted Streams, seeke Honour in the Source.
If meanes thou vse, with Christ thou mayst obtaine
In Glory which shall never end to raigne.
His Crosse to Climbe, by suffring bee content,
The Seale by which the Saints to Heauen are sent;
There shall thy Honour, (never to take flight,)
By GOD bee given, in Men and Angels' sight,
Where Time discourt, nor Envie thee can harme,
Nor flattring Straines of Sycophants can charme
Thy Prince's eare, from Honour to degrade
Thee, Great but for thy greater ruine made,
Nor Life bee short, toile-conq'red Sutes to brooke
Some anxious Dayes, but lasting as a Looke.
Thee, (prickt with thornie cares), in bondage brings,
Moue thee to scrape, to scart, to pinch, to spare,
To rake, to runne, to kill thyselfe with care,
Things most secure to doubt, to waite, to watch,
Of Penny, or of Penny-worth to catch
Some Gnat, by chance, in Spider-web arriv'd,
Of Bowel-wasting-wretched wayes contrivd,
Draw neere, heere learne but for the Day to care,
Vncertaine to suck vp To-morrow's Ayre:
Come see thy Lord and His poore Traine preparing
Things for another life; no travell sparing
About this Task: for worldly goods content
With what by God to serue the Time was sent,
Like Pilgrims, passing to their blest aboade,
Not over-charged with superfluous loade.
Alace! what meanst thou, (while in soule most pore,)
Thy selfe to toile, to conquesse cankring Ore?
Heaps to hoarde vp of Pelfe, whose Rust at last
Shall Witnesse bee, that Sentence just is past
Of thy damnation? O! in time forbeare
On drosse, on dunge, still to bee doating heere;
Care for these Treasures, which in Christ are found,
In which all grace, all wisdome doth abound:
That Pearle, Himselfe, aboue all price who is,
Than all the world beside, more deare to His;
If thou enrichd wouldst by some Good-thing bee,
Sell all thou hast; and with affection free
Prefer to part, with all things earthly twinne,
Losse even thy lyfe, this peereles Pearle to winne:
And though no Coine thou dost command, nor ware
With this Equivalent thou canst compare,
Hee without price, or money will bestow,
(As thou thy wants and Indigence doth show,)
Both gold and garments, livelie foode and all
What wish thou canst, yea even Himselfe withall.
If of the fever of Intemp'rance sicke,
Selfe-rotting fleshlie pleasure it affect,
Thee carying headlongs to eternall wreake,
If with this beastlie Sensualitie,
This soule-besotting sinne, thou grieved bee,
That poyson casting vp, which (late) seemd sweete,
And with delight thy senses did invite
Even to a surfet, Longing for remeed,
Looke on thy Lord, who all His dayes was dead
To Earthlie pleasures: who, with grieues acquented,
A man of sorrowes liu'd, heere vnlamented,
Whose breast did beare, brash't with displeasure's dart,
A bruised Spirit, and a broken heart,
On whose sad soule did heavie sorrowes light,
When wrath sustaining, (due to vs by right,)
In Him our sinfull pleasures were persued,
Eternallie which wee had not eschued
If God and vs Hee had not stept betweene,
Even with his owne Heart-blood to make vs cleane.
Hast, sensuall slaue, thy filthie soule to hyde
Vnder his shadow, least thy daring pride
With wrath bee punisht: who forbidden Tree
Of false delights durst taste, defended thee.
While check't in Conscience; O! with tears resort
To Him in private, lest for lightlie prising
His Tears, for want of tears in thee arising,
Anguish and sorrow, which shall never slake,
Teares never finding truce, thee overtake.
Forth-wringing sighs and sobs, for thy disease,
With wrath brunt vp for sinne, in which of late
Thy foolish soule did false content conceate.
“Iudge causes now for which thy cheeks to weete.
Thy lewd delights how He most dearely buyes,
Torne, beaten, stabt, with thorns, nailes, cruell speare;
Stript naked, Sham'd and slayne; yea more, doth beare,
Persuing wrath, to expiate thy Crime,
Thy beastly swine-like bathing, all thy time,
In brutish lusts, still wallowing in the myre
Of fylth, no limits set to thy desire.
His heart yet hot, a double streame foorth sending
Of blood and water. Quicklie, quicklie haste
With mournefull soule, which truely doth detaste
Thy vile licentious life: most humbly craue
Those guiltlesse streames in thee no guilt may leaue,
That (hence) by vertue of this Ransome fred,
Tears thou to Him, who bloode for thee, mayst shed.
Soft ease exile, till, by vnfaind confession,
Thy pittying LORD for thee make Intercession.
Those pois'nable delights, disgorg'd now having,
Once greedilie drunke in, thy soule deceaving;
Resolving (hence) by action, nor consent
More to licke vp thy sins' loathd excrement,
To sense though seeming sweete, which now turnd sowre,
A flood of bitternesse on thee doth powre,
Thee, stinging with soule-wringing sad remorse,
The more represt repining with more force.
By time, this hundreth-headed Monster quaild,
Beware, once foyld, thou never set it free,
Once damn'd, ne're after it absolved bee,
Thou bee adjudged to eternall bands,
Whose trampled blood Hee shall at thee require,
A Sow turnd backe to wallow in the myre.
In detestation of thy vitious life
Thou truly dost desire, to find true peace,
Looke, looke upon thy LORD'S most lovelie face,
Perpending, pond'ring, laying deepe to heart,
No midst there is, but thou with Him must part,
For ever sev'red from His Holinesse,
To pyne in Torments which no time makes lesse,
Thy Back, in time, or turning, with thy Sinne,
(As thy right hand or eye though deare,) to twinne.
That Christ and Belial can together stay,
Thy Lord's chast loue, and thy licentious lusts
From thy divided soule one other thrusts.
Pleasure in Him and fleshlie pleasure fall
So foull at strife, they can, nor mixe, nor wall.
To bee conform'd to Him take pleasure; so
As thou makst progresse shall thy pleasure grow,
Pleasure without compare, which thee shall make
Sinne's deare bought seeming pleasures soone forsake.
Nor sinfull Motions least-least place did find
In His affections, Him to lead astray,
Darkning in Him the weakest shining Ray
Of perfite holinesse, mou'd but draw neare
That beastly Idole, as thy life held deare,
The which to serue thou all thy dayes hast doted,
To sinfull, sensuall delights, devoted.
None, who in patient hope, knock, seeke, or cry.
If thou but mourne to Him with sorow true
Of lusts vncleane, thy Devill hee will subdue.
Did ravish with continuall meditation,
Wholly with This tane vp, that in his minde
No idle Rav'ryes place besids could finde,
Such as thy time doe waste, doores open make
To Sathan and his Trayne; who course doth take
On Wings of vaging thoughts, before to send
His Messingers; comes then apace in end
Himselfe; These in securitie possest,
And having rowme prepaird for him to rest.
At all occasions: teaching thee thy due,
To watch, to fast, to pray, Hee giues the ground,
Least thou by Sathan shouldst bee Idle found.
Hee vs'd the meanes, of which hee had no neede,
But by example that He thee might lead.
Hee oft for thee hath mournd, till night was gone,
Hath all the day-long in the Temple stood,
Feeding the famisht soule with Heavenly food,
Delighted more his Father to obey,
His will to doe, to Heaven to teach the way,
When Thirst or hunger vrg'd, then drink or eate,
Though length of Time and travell did invite.
“Now if a Patterne this to make, thee please,
“A Scope to ayme at, standing not for ease,
“Bee diligent to follow, spare no paine,
“Thus are thy lusts subdu'd, thy sinne is slaine.
O giue me LORD, with floods of teares unfaind
To bath my bosome, with uncleannesse staind;
Looke on a sorrie wight, in mournefull state,
A Lazare lying at thy mercie's gate:
O passe not by: let mee thy pitty proue,
Cast over mee the Mantle of thy loue:
Though I bee out of measure vile, yet LORD,
I cleane shall bee, if thou but speake the word.
A rav'ning vulture on the Pigeon preyd,
The faces of the poore hast grunde, laid watch
The very morsels from their mouths to snatch,
Runne, runne, make hast, thy Saviour comes along,
Climbe with Zacheus to eschue the throng
Of sinnes, which happily in silence lye,
Yet to the Heavens for wrath and vengance cry,
And, on thy selfe if lookt thou hast aright,
Thou canst no misse a comfortable sight
Of Him, the lost who came to seeke and saue,
Of whom thou shalt not a repulse receaue.
“None ask in fayth and do vnpardond part,
“Those suts alone lack successe which lack heart.
Due reparation for thy wrongs to make
Than Hee, to bid himselfe thy guest to bee,
Salvation offring, even vnaskt of Thee.
With plentie pind, disquieted with rest,
Evill with good, with soundest health most sicke,
With wellfare wretched, doth thy soule afflict,
Looke on thy loving Lord, and blush to see
Him for his Foes, in loue, content to die,
While causlesly, thou dost thy Brother hate,
Who harmd thee never, but in thy conceate,
Or, as the bleard-man's eye the light offends,
Whose hurt upon his owne defect depends.
Who canst not thy vndaunted Passions tame,
O, bee ashamd the Meeknesse to behold
Of thy provoked Lord, betrayd and sold,
By words, by deeds injurd; in whom did shine
Such patience, that even those who did repine
For them, by whom Hee cruell death endurd.
Learne, as thou lookst, thy beastlie rage to bound,
To bridle Furie, least it thee confound,
Which as a fire, still readie is to burne,
As to revenge, or malice thou dost turne,
Yea to devoure, if finding once a vent,
Though for the least conceated discontent.
Thy duetie, lesning what thou shouldst enlarge,
Looke heere, and learne wise Courage, to persue
Thy righteous Ends, what's to thy Calling due,
For fead nor favour, which thou canst no spare,
Thy Lord's Commission if thou not empare.
His will to publish? standst thou who oppose
Thy message? What Goliah thee assaile?
What raging Rabsaketh against thee raile?
Thy famisht Bodie with affliction's bread
While heere thou breathst, wilt thou to speake forbeare
But what may pleasing be to Achab's eare.
It lyes thee on thy life, what ere ensue,
Wrath to denounce gainst a revolting Land:
Though Ieroboam should streatch foorth his hand.
Nor death nor danger, thou by sense must scan.
Thou must not shrink to say, Thou art the Man.
Him, whom thy hand hath charged, of his word
With the two-edged soule-dividing sword,
Thou canst not but to Indignation moue,
If Thou a Coward in His cause shouldst proue.
And dost thou of the Arme of flesh take feare?
To shield thy life from tiranizing spight,
Thy LORD can send, who best doth know thy neede,
An Angell, in thy Famine thee to feede.
Can strengthen thee, that Chaines nor Stockes nor Iaile
Shall in His Service hence thy Courage quaile;
Even for thy cause, can make the Earth to quake,
All the foundations of the prison shake,
Thy boults of brasse, thy bands to brust asunder,
Thy keepers overcome with feare and wonder,
To stoupe before thee, and to wash with teares
Thy strips, the badges which for Christ thou beares.
If GOD bee for thee, panse no who oppose:
His Hooke can haill the haughtiest by the nose.
Thy Liege or Lord, to whom thou dost belong,
Least for a Counseller, of faith vnfaind,
A Servant, with no imputation staind,
Disloyall and Vnfaithfull thou be found;
To thy base Ends to lay a sliprie ground
While thine owne Ease, (of all true worth denude,)
Thou setst before GOD'S glorie and their Good,
And, from the Right made slavishlie to swerue,
Stoupst downe their Will, though not their Well to serue.
Thy selfe and Men thou for a space mayst please,
Base Temporizer, yet when better Light
The Weaknesse of thy wayes shall set in sight,
In thine owne Colours then bee seene thou must;
For loyall Subject, Servant worthie trust
To God, thy Prince and Lord, thou shalt apeare
A slavish Drudge alone to servile Feare.
Or turne thee but a haire-bredth from thee right,
As to his faythfull Servants friendlie, so
Most terrible to All, whom Feare doth draw,
Of Man than God to stand in greater aw.
Looke heere, and learne the Truth to speake, to loue.
No guile was in his mouth. No faire Pretence
Of Complementall kindnesse mockt the sense
Of Any, His Societie who sought;
His speaches never varyed from his Thought.
None Hee did cousin, none with lyes deceaue,
Did flatter none, of none would flattery haue,
While foul reproach His Patience did assaile,
His peace he keept: raild on, He did no raile.
Hee No-man slandred, but who did offend,
In time and place most fit did reprehend,
In All rebuking sinne; Hee Cursed none
But when of Heaven and Earth as Iudge alone,
Gainst Hypocrits, Professors but in show,
Hee thundred foorth damnation, wrath and woe.
To nought vndecent His discourse debords.
No Time Hee did in idle purpose spend
But such as did to edifying tend:
Hee knew, in things committed to His care,
The fittest season both to speake and spare.
By hurtfull Silence He did Nought conceale,
His Father's Glory, or his People's well
That might prejudge; in speache nor word at all
Vntimely vttred from his lips did fall.
“Thus to thy Good, as Hee did frame His speach,
“Him make thy patterne; speak as He doth teach.
“What by exemple hee doth set thee to,
“According to thy measure, ayme to doe.
To reade thy life's past legend leaving Thee,
So, in the Mirror, for thy help to looke,
To turne the volumnes of that sacred Booke
Where Christ is seene aliue, dead, rais'd againe
To life, for sinne ne're after to bee slaine,
That looking heere, faults of what ever kinde
By light of Scripture in thy selfe thou find,
Christ thy Consulter thou alone mayst make,
What course most meet for thy remeed to take.
By looking in the Mirror of the Law
Christ make thy glasse, (tho with thy faults offended,)
To show thee how thy misses may bee mended.
What ere deforme doth in thy soule abide,
In Him looke something that defect to hide,
No leprous spot vnpurgt in thee is seene,
The which in Him thou mayst not haue made cleane,
How ere in thee Sinne's Plague its poison spread,
Seeke out, in Him, and thou shalt find remead.
What thou to doe, or suffer oblisht stands,
How e're extended bee thy dutye's lines
Looke still on Christ, as in His Word He shines,
By light of which thy minde lift vp to see
Him in the Heavens, dispensing vnto thee
These vertues which hee craues; and what hee showes
By Life's rare Patterne, working even in those
In whome His loue a true desire doth bread
To bee conforme, made like Himselfe their Head.
But such as stedfast stands, in ev'ry stoure,
True Loue, possessing all the soule and senses,
True powrs all drawing, (free of faind pretences,)
To God, in full obedience to His will,
In absolute submission, suffring still
Who best doth know what best is for thy well;
Pure worshipping of God, in maner chast,
For warrant as His ordinance thou hast,
Without all mixture of Inventions vaine,
The bastard broode of man's presumptuous braine,
Him teaching thou shalt heare, Him showing see;
Himselfe in Person even preceeding thee,
A blest exemplar, a most gracious guyde,
And if thou loue, (sinne's luggage layde aside,)
To follow on, to thy eternall well
In thee the like Him working thou shalt feele.
Thy Lord will fitt, and by degrees thee frame
Thy Duty to discharge, to Great, to Small
As equity requires to doe to All;
Mercie to show vnto the miserable
As neede in them exacts, as thou art able:
As Lazarus, as His Disciples deare
Hee did esteeme, loue to thy friends to beare,
Kindred and bloode with due respect to prise,
But those whom Nature thee more nearlie tyes
Most to regard, thy Parents, who did spare
No paynes for thee, while for thy selfe to care
Thou couldst not, in more speciall degree,
In greater measure, loe Hee teacheth thee
While from the Crosse, to Iohne, his loving friend,
Now in His place, HER hee doth recommend
Who gaue Him birth, His Virgine-Mother blest,
By speciall care Her singling from the rest.
Good proofe did give of his fidelitie
And diligence to Him did Him employ,
So, follow on with cheerefullnesse and Ioy,
That to what ever Charge their Place them call,
As done to CHRIST their service may bee all.
These twelue, who speciall priviledge did plead
To serve Him as Disciples: how most kind,
Most affable Him all of them did find,
Their faults so wisely checking that no eye
Did no their well sought in His service see,
May learne in meeknesse, lenitie and loue
To rule aright, not Tyrannizers proue,
Their servants in obedience due to draw,
By wisdome more than force, loue more than awe.
Of matchlesse loue, that sacred mysterie,
Christ and His Church combining, thence to loue
May learne, as wedded to a LORD aboue
Who lov'd them first, so from this patterne draw
In earthly wedlock a religious law,
Of holy loue a lesson, how to frame
These dutyes chast which mariage bands do clame.
Singly to liue with strength of grace endued,
A Nazarite to God to which is given
To liue, an Eunuch consecrate for Heaven,
Hath for a Guyde, to follow who invits,
Iesus of Naz'reth, prince of Nazarites.
Their Children, Them how nurse in pietie,
How in their hearts to sow the seeds of grace,
How vice and inborne Error to displace,
Hereditarie Evils, faults foreseene,
Sinnes ready to break foorth how to preveene,
How keepe from leavenning with doctrins vaine,
From course of life corrupt how to restrayne.
Submissiue loyalty, obeysance due,
But Church men chiefly, by ambition blind,
Whom Christ fore-seing should affect to find
Aspire the steps of Sov'raignety to trace;
That ONE aboue the rest, should, (thus made weake,)
The yock of Civill Iurisdiction shake
From scornefull shoulders, raysd those Men aboue
Whom God hath called Gods, (how ere they proue
In this submission lesse then Men,) to beare,
In Princelie Pow're, His Royall Image heere,
Though therefore He exemption might haue pleaded,
And not beene Caesar's Tributary needed
To teach obedience, yet, to Subjects true,
Would giue to Caesar what was Caesar's due.
Himselfe made Great by throwing Others downe,
To voluntary offers giving eare
Of such, repining Caesar's yoke to beare,
As gladly would haue Insurrection made,
Conspird by arms a bloodie cause to plead,
Yet did He flye; and, (by exemple rare),
To solitarie Desarts to repare
Preferring, did all loyall Subjects teach
To shunne Seditioun, though a Crowne to reach.
Yea when His life was most vnjustlie sought,
A Weapon to bee drawne He suffred nought
In His defence, but chuisd Himselfe alone
To suffer, rather than by armes oppone
The Lawfull Magistrat, so authorize
Seditious men, for private Injuries
Persu'd by Iustice, who dare set their face
Against their Prince or Deputs in his place.
To conquesse rents and Lands Him troubled least.
Men's soules alone He sought, and these to saue;
No Prince by Him did prejudice receaue,
By civile challenge, by pretended right,
By open violence, or secret slight.
In Imitation of their Lord and Heed,
Or quite the false pretence themselves to call
His Servants, while with Him at strife they fall,
Proudly practizing what they contrare find,
Both to His Mouth's direction and His minde,
For, (bee they sure), no Titles of respect,
No rev'rend Stiles which proudlings so affect,
No name of Fathers in his house, no place
Of Honour, which so eagerlie they chace,
No scugge of Peters chayre, no vaine pretence
Of powre, by soveraigne preheminence,
No casting out of devills shall ought availe,
Preaching nor wonders working; all shall faile
Proud wordlings from that dreadfull doome to saue:
I know you not; with mee no part yee haue.
A pearlesse Patterne of true loyaltie,
So Kings may looking on this King of Kings,
Who proudest Tyrants in subjection brings,
Learne to be truly Royall, Rule as Hee
To whom all earthly Monarchs vassels bee.
They Loyall proue, and to his Lawes to bring
Obedience due no paynes esteeme too great,
The well to establish of His royall State,
So Princes then, when Subjects good they proue
To Iesus Christ, a King all Kings aboue,
His Kingdome seeking to advance, to plant
Relligion in Their bounds, thence to supplant
Contemners of His lawes, his Throne enlarge,
With noble Artaxarxes giving charge
That what enjoynd is by the God of Heaven
His House concerning, Order may bee given
It to performe with speed, wrath to keepe backe,
Which may the Realme, the King, his Sonnes o'retake.
Nor by His Subiects' wisdome, wealth, nor hands,
Yet so doth seeke the wellfare of their State,
As if, they weakned, hee could not bee Great;
Behould, how Hee All such as dare injure,
The hurt or Prejudice of His procure,
Foes to Himselfe professing: no pretence
Of fayned friendship, show of Innocence
Admittance finding to abuse His Eare,
All Flatt'rers false defended to draw neare,
Whom Hee will, (on day,) to their endlesse shame,
(As if He them had never known,) disclame.
Revealed were, of this true King the Type,
Looking vpon the Prototype, His Lord,
His Kinglie Carriage did to His accord;
Learnd God His Ioy to make; God's Law alone
His Rule, in life, and in Relligion;
Apostasie and Apostats to hate,
And every wicked man, or Meane or Great:
All such to curbe: the Godlie in their place
As Favourits, Friends, Counsellers to grace,
Raysd to preferment, in his Eyes to stand;
GOD'S foes degraded, rooted from the Land;
So let all Kings, anoynted from aboue,
GOD for their Portion, David's Lote who loue,
Him who doth both vnscepter and enstall
Beholding, learne to do the like in all.
Of mind or case of present disposition
Of Body, goods, or name, of what degree,
Sexe, age, estate or Ranke so-ere they bee,
Seeke by the eye of liuelie Fayth to looke
On Christ, described in the sacred Booke
Of God's two Testaments, the Mirror true
From whence alone reflects His perfite view,
For each defect of Bodie or of minde
Some seasonable good, some soveraine cure
To doe away in them sinne's spots impure.
No looke on Him shall bee bestou'd in vaine,
For Hee in Mercie shall looke backe againe,
And from each looke shall liuelie vertue flow,
Which difference sufficient shall show
Twix Christ (aright) thus by His owne Means sought,
And that deceaving, shamefull Idole, brought
In place of Christ, as Christ to bee adord,
And (now) is by deluded soules implord
For Christ, and cald, (what blasphemie more vile?)
By Christ's owne personall and proper stile.
I leave to Preachers to informe at length,
Whose Calling is, (not in the Bed of slouth
Reposing), from the Chayre of sacred Truth
That Lambe of GOD, by Scriptures, to point foorth,
That Treasure of vnestimable worth
Hid in the Gospels' field in sight to set,
Whence needie soules may lasting riches get,
CHRIST, sacrifizde for sinners, to present,
(By preaching of His death and Testament,)
Vnto their peoples' eyes, by vses due
Quickning dead soules vnto obedience new.
Gold, pretious stones, who building on this GROVND,
With hearts right set, their Maister's will to know,
Him to their flocks may chieflie strive to show,
His Honour, and safetie of his Sheepe
Preferring to what els the world doth keepe.
To These so chieflie Charge of soules who haue,
As Aaron cald vnto the Iews was given,
To Them the Gospell's joyfull news to preach:
Thus in God's House no charge at all to teach
Place ought to haue, but such, (by God designd,)
As warrant doe from His apointment find,
And that in such None ought themselues to thrust,
But whom alone GOD daind hath to entrust
With His Commission, in His worke to sweate,
Found Messingers for His Embassage meet,
Who, scorning Means which worthlesse men doe make,
By doore of lawfull calling Entrie take.
Thus when thrust foorth, the Truth of God Hee spoke,
Him in Commission given, and still did care
Of all His words, God's word to make the square.
Hee neither whipt in spleene, nor did forbeare
For favour; so their saftie might bee wrought,
Men's well and not to please their will he sought.
Nor Honour to Himselfe Himselfe did set
To purchase, (though to Him was due by right
All Glory, Honour, Majestie and might),
To seeke GOD'S honour was his maine intent
Him who to Labour in His Harvest sent.
(To Ignorants one with an vncouth leid,)
No Eloquence of words, no swelling stile
Did from His mouth His flock of foode beguile;
In all Simplicitie, in termes most plaine,
His minde He vttred, to the vulgar braine
And Iudgement weake of All Himselfe applying
Eares had to heare, vpon His charge relying.
Paynes, nor by night nor day, nor late nor ayre.
His meate, his drink it was, soules home to bring,
His Father's will to doe in everie thing.
Hee did not with ambitious wordlings chace,
But vtterlie refusde, and lookt afarre
On what so ere his maine Intent might marre.
Or from a better worke Him might destract,
Hee did no meddle, would no lay aside
His Calling, matters civill to decide,
Though in pretence twixt Brothers peace to make
Vrg'd, Hee the Iudge's office did forsake.
Hee suffred patientlie to bee controld,
Not with the obstinate by Iangling vaine
To tempt Him set, and of his words to gaine
Advantage, Hee by dispute did contend:
Or peace Hee keept, or some few words did spend
Sufficient to convince, the Conscience check
Of such as thus their Envy durst detect.
Fidelitie, in suffring, doctrine, deeds,
Though King of Kings, repining not to bee,
Heere subject to Supreme Authoritie.
As on whose doctrins false the world abusd,
A good Confession witnessing, Hee stoode
Fast for the Truth, and seald it with His bloode.
If true conformitie had beene applyd,
His Vicar, Him at least who steales this stile,
But from His life and doctrine doth resile,
Those Evill offers never had entisd,
Nor bad condition, by our Lord despisd.
With loue of worldlie Glory led aside,
Haue turnd, their Earthlie pompe to entertaine,
CHRIST'S Heavenly Kingdome in a temp'rall Raigne.
(By greed of gaine, and filthie lucre driven,)
So many Stars to Earth, and earthlie wayes,
Depriving both of light and heat their Rayes.
Of Pietie, with windie Eloquence
And falsely cald Philosophy, haue dard
Themselues to Preach, of GOD the Truth haue mard.
To blinded Guids of a deluded Traine,
Haue Scriptures made despisd, so farre suspect,
And Toyes and Trifles cary such respect.
Strengthen, Lord Iesus, and stretch foorth thine hand
To ayde thy Servants, for thy cause who stand,
And reddy are to suffer fyre and sword
For Thee, thy Truth, and credite of thy Word.
Sufficient Workmen in thy Harv'st thrust foorth,
Fitted for those pernitious Times in worth:
Come clense thy Kirk, discover by degrees
The Man of Sinne, to All whose darkned eyes,
Blind to discerne, yet can not truelie see
Midst such a glorious Sunne-shine, who is Hee.
Thine owne deare Lambs set free, who captives lye,
Which chains of Ignorance and Error tye;
That hence, (no more in by-paths led astray)
In seeking Thee, the Truth, the Life, the Way,
Their Crucifixes faind they may disclame,
And of their Idols and false Christs thinke shame.
Where Truelie Thee to see by Faith is given,
To All, that in the Means ordaind by Thee,
With Souls right set, seeke in Sinceritie.
God forbid that I should rejoyce, but in the Crosse of our LORD Iesus Christ, Whereby the World is crucified vnto mee, and I vnto the World.
SONNETS
Sonet 1.
While (mine owne glasse), vpon myself I looke,Examining how (heere) my part is plaid,
Reading in conscience's accusing Booke,
Of pretious Time how meane account I made,
What hideous Formes my frighted Eyes vpbrade,
Reflecting from the Mirror of my mynd:
Abortiue Flowrs which in the blossome fade,
Most of my labours past, alone I find.
Eternall Ivstice, Thou who (vndeclynd)
To everie Worke proportions the Reward,
Pittie my folyes past: with Sprite refynd
So shall I praise Thee, who my paths repaird;
So from Egyptian Brick and Clay set free,
My Songs shall only, only bee of Thee.
Sonet 2.
Bvt while my Sprite aboue the spheares aspyres,And from the World would separation make,
Myne Eyes repyning at my Soules desyres,
With Lot's fond Wife, relenting looks cast backe.
Thou, whose consuming breath her soyle did sacke,
All Lets, my flight which doe empeach, remove:
Wing my affection that in word, in act,
From Earth sequestred I may vpwards move,
There, where around Thee, Wisdome, Iustice, Loue.
Truth, Mercie with extended wings, abide,
With numbrous hostes all number farre aboue,
Of Sprites which in eternity them hyde:
O lead me thither, thither make mee runne:
Perfite thy worke, (Good Lord), in mee begunne.
Sonet 3.
My wayes, my wandrings all to Thee are knowne,No strength to stand (Lord) of my selfe I haue;
I breath in bondage, so am not mine owne,
Emancipat to Sinne, so Sathan's slave.
No stinking carion, halfe consumd in graue,
My leprous soule in loathsomenesse exceeds.
Thy glorious Image how defacd I haue
While I record, my heart for horror bleeds.
Sweete Reconcealer, Thou who pardon pleads
To sin-chargd soules, which, faynting, groane for grace,
Thy Mercie measure not with my misdeeds;
Thy wandring chyld, turnd home at length, embrace,
Who brutishly mongst beasts, (with ackorns fed),
Too long, a shamefull, swynish life haue led.
Sonet 4.
O Three times happie, if the day of graceIn my dark soule did, (though but dimly), dawne;
If to my strugling thoughts proclaimd were peace;
If from mine eyes the vaile of darknesse drawne;
If once the seed of true Repentance sawne
Made gushing streames leave furrowes on my face;
Sinne's menstruous rags in pure transparent laune
Were chang't; O then how happie were my cace!
So darknesse paths no more my feete should trace,
So ever on a quyet conscience feast.
Repentance planted so should vice displace,
So clenst from sinne, sinne's filth I should detest,
Grace, Light, Repentance, inward peace I crave,
Grant these, good Lord, for mee thy selfe who gave.
Sonet 5.
Awake mee, (Lord,) from fancie's charming dreame,My Sprit rowze vp from lethargie of sloath:
With doubled pace, O give mee to redeeme
My time mispent, the errors of my youth.
Hence let my taske bee thy eternall Truth,
Free from vaine fictions of distempred brains:
Grant what Thou addst vnto my years of grouth
Good seed may prove, cast on more fertile plains.
Set to the key of grace, tune all my straines
From lawlesse stryfe, fred from conceits prophaine,
Which poyson doe with gall the sweetest veines,
And, with the Sprit of lyes, most sprits enchaine.
My sprit with thine inspire; on wings mee raise.
Lord, henceforth let my tongue sound foorth thy praise.
Sonet 6.
Since that vast orbe, which doth the rest embrace,More swift than thoght still whirls about times wheele;
Since years' serpentine course, with speedy pace,
Doth a continuall revolution feele;
Since houres still slyde, still life away doth steale,
Why then, my soule, heere art thou luld asleepe?
As if on Earth's low stage were placd thy Well,
In streams of slyding pleasurs drencht too deepe:
Breake off thy dreame: from world's basse fetters creepe,
Thy soveraine Good with eyes vnsyld to view:
Ryse from earth's vaile to climbe that Mountaine steepe,
The only station of contentment true.
Sooth no thy selfe, my soule; shake of delay:
Life's Flowre both spreidth and fadeth in a day.
Sonet 7.
As waue doth waue, so day doth day displace;Time's clock goes quickly: Moments swiftly slyde:
The longest Age scare doth a minut's space,
If with eternity compaird, abyde.
Yet Mortals, charg'd with madnesse, fraught with pryde,
Day-livers, dreame to see the world's last date:
Guyle held no guilt, craft they with craft doe hyde,
Sinne heap on sinne, deceat vpon deceat;
No paine is spair'd to gaine the name of Great,
Prizde with contempt, aym'd at by few, is Good
But Ah! and buildst thou vp a slipry state
With pressing vsury, with bribes, with bloode,
Madde Man, yet dost not, neither wilst take heede,
Thy Life ore hell hings by a slender threed.
Sonet 8.
If Lines which Sphears in equall shares divyde,But once the Center, twice the Circle touch,
Like slow-pac'd snails, why then still doe wee crouch,
Still craule on earth, on earth still grov'ling bide?
Let fayth our flight aboue Heaven's circuits guide
Where wee should dwell, redoubling our desires.
The Doue, no rest heere finding, streight retyres,
But in our Prison plac'd is all our pride.
As all the vast inferiour orbs of Heaven,
By proper pace, vnsensibly are rold,
But hurld about, with motion vncontrold,
Are by the Highest violently driven,
O Mover first, let mee thy motion proue
In grace, who rather retrograde than moue.
Sonet 9.
A constant course, heere, Lord each creature keeps,Not swarving from thine ordinance their ends:
Earth vnsustained stands, in showrs ayre weeps,
Fyre vpward, water to the Center tends.
The Sunne in his Ecliptick, mounts, descends,
Oblicklie runnes, with Tropics two confynd,
Whose course the years alternat seasons sends;
Seas ne're transgresse the Limits thou assing'd.
But Man, in whom thy vive Character shynd,
That lytle World, of all thy works a Breefe,
Made Lord of All, of all hath most declynd
From thy obedience. O tears! O griefe!
Man to the Angels whom Thou didst preferre,
From his Creation's end doth only erre.
Sonet 10.
My lif's fraile Barge, with an impetuous tyde,Is on this world's tempestuous Ocean tost:
For me, as for our second Sire, provyde
A saving Ark, O Lord, or I am lost.
Or as thy people, (while proud Pharaoh's hoast
Seas overwhelmd,) through floods firme passage fand.
A Vessell weake, Mee save, at too much cost
Redeem't to bee depriv'd of promis'd Land.
As earst to Peter, Lord, streach foorth thine hand,
On liquid floare while as his fayth did faynt:
Let not betwixt mee and thy mercie stand
That I a sinner vile, hee liv'd a Saint.
Thy Glorie greater, greater is thy praise,
Mee a dead Lazare, from sinne's grave to raise.
Sonet. To the Blessed Trinitie.
Essence vnmov'd, whose Word made all things move,Earth's pondrous Orbe midst Ayre who ballanst even,
By Discords sweete, who tun'd the ten-stringt Heaven,
God rich in Mercie, infinite in Love,
Light out of Light, O life who death didst prove,
Lost Earthlings to redeeme, depriv'd of grace;
Child full of wonder, glorious Prince of Peace,
Begotten, from Eternitie, aboue;
O Holy Ghost, sweete sanctifying Sprit
From both proceeding: All, in essence One,
Most sacred Triade: first and last alone,
Three vndividuall, Trinally vnite,
Father, Sonne, Holy Ghost, God, One in Three
And three in One! for ever blessed bee.
The works of Sir William Mure of Rowallan | ||