The Works of Michael Drayton :: :: University of Virginia Library

To the Right Noble, Religious, and truely vertuous Lady, Mary, Countesse of Dorset; worthy of all Titles and Attributes, that were ever given to the most Renowned of her Sexe: and of me most deservedly to be honoured. To her Fame and Memory I consecrate these my divine Poems, with all the wishes of a gratefull heart; for the preservation of her, and her Children, the Succeeding Hopes of the Ancient and Noble Family of the Sackviles.

Her Servant, Michael Drayton.

Eternall and all-working God, which wast
Before the world, whose frame by thee was cast,
And beautifi'd with beamefull lampes above,
By thy great wisedome set how they should move
To guide the seasons, equally to all,
Which come and goe as they doe rise and fall.

My mighty Maker, O doe thou infuse
Such life and spirit into my labouring Muse,
That I may sing (what but from Noah thou hid'st)
The greatest thing that ever yet thou didst
Since the Creation; that the world may see
The Muse is heavenly, and deriv'd from thee.

A Jove Musa.

O let thy glorious Angell which since kept
That gorgeous Eden, where once Adam slept;
When tempting Eve was taken from his side,
Let him great God not onely be my guide,
But with his fiery Faucheon still be nie,
To keepe affliction farre from me, that I
With a free soule thy wondrous workes may show,
Then like that Deluge shall my numbers flow,
Telling the state wherein the earth then stood,
The Gyant race, the universall floud.

The fruitfull earth being lusty then and strong,
Like to a Woman, fit for love, and young,
Brought forth her creatures mighty, not a thing
Issu'd from her, but a continuall spring
Had to increase it, and to make it flourish,
For in her selfe she had that power to nourish
Her Procreation, that her children then
Were at the instant of their birth, halfe men.
Men then begot so soone, and got so long,
That scarcely one a thousand men among,
But he ten thousand in his time might see,
That from his loynes deriv'd their Pedegree.
The full-womb'd Women, very hardly went
Out their nine months, abundant nature lent

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Their fruit such thriving, as that once waxt quicke,
The large-limb'd mother, neither faint nor sicke,
Hasted her houre by her abundant health,
Nature so plaid the unthrift with her wealth,
So prodigally lavishing her store
Upon the teeming earth, then wasting more

The fruitfulnesse and bravery of the earth before the Floud.

Then it had need of: not the smallest weed
Knowne in that first age, but the naturall seed
Made it a Plant, to these now since the Floud,
So that each Garden look'd then like a Wood:
Beside, in Med'cen, simples had that power,
That none need then the Planetary houre
To helpe their working, they so juycefull were.
The Winter and the Spring time of the yeare
Seem'd all one season: that most stately tree
Of Libanus, which many times we see
Mention'd for talenesse in the holy Writ,
Whose tops the clouds oft in their wandring hit,
Were shrubs to those then on the earth that grew;
Nor the most sturdy storme that ever blew
Their big-growne bodies, to the earth ere shooke,
Their mighty Rootes, so certaine fastening tooke;
Cover'd with grasse, more soft then any silke,
The Trees dropt honey, & the Springs gusht milke:
The Flower-fleec't Meadow, & the gorgeous grove,
Which should smell sweetest in their bravery, strove;
No little shrub, but it some Gum let fall,
To make the cleere Ayre aromaticall:
Whilst to the little Birds melodious straines,
The trembling Rivers tript along the Plaines.
Shades serv'd for houses, neither Heate nor Cold
Troubl'd the yong, nor yet annoy'd the old:
The batning earth all plenty did afford,
And without tilling (of her owne accord)
That living idly without taking paine
(Like to the first) made every man a Caine.
Seaven hundred yeeres, a mans age scarcely then,
Of mighty size so were these long-liv'd men:

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The flesh of Lyons, and of Buls they tore,
Whose skins those Gyants for their garments wore.
Yet not tearm'd Gyants onely, for that they
Excel'd men since, in bignesse every way:
Nor that they were so puissant of their hand,
But that the Race wherewith the earth was man'd,
So wrathfull, proud, and tyranous were then,
Not dreading God, nor yet respecting men;

Josephus.

For they knew neither Magistrate, nor law,
Nor could conceive ought that their wils could awe;
For which waxt proud, & haughty in their thought,
They set th'eternall living God at naught:
Mankinde increasing greatly every day,
Their sinnes increase in numbers more then they;
Seaven Ages had past Adam, when men prone
To tyranny, and no man knew his owne:
His sensuall will then followed, and his lust,
His onely law, in those times to be just
Was to be wicked; God so quite forgot,
As what was damn'd, that in that age was not.
With one anothers flesh themselves they fil'd,
And drunke the bloud of those whom they had kil'd.
They dar'd to doe, what none should dare to name,
They never heard of such a thing as shame.

Berosus cited by Pirerius.

Man mixt with man, and Daughter, Sister, Mother,
Were to these wicked men as any other.
To rip their womens wombes, they would not stick,
When they perceiv'd once they were waxed quicke.
Feeding on that, from their own loynes that sprong,
Such wickednesse these Monsters was among:
That they us'd Beasts, digressing from all kinde:
That the Almighty pondring in his minde
Their beastlinesse, (from his intent) began
T'repent himselfe that he created man.
Their sinnes ascending the Almighties seate,
Th'eternall Throane with horror seeme to threat.
Still daring God, a warre with them to make,
And of his power, no knowledge seem'd to take.

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So that he vow'd, the world he would destroy,
Which he revealed onely to just Noy.
For but that man, none worthy was to know,
Nor he the manner to none else would show.
For since with starres, he first high heaven enchast,
And Adam first in Paradice had plac't,
Amongst all those inhabiting the ground,
He not a man so just as Noe had found.
For which he gave him charge an Arke to build,
And by those workemen which were deepliest skild
In Architecture, to begin the frame,
And thus th'Almighty taught just Noe the same.

The structure of the Arke.

Three hundred cubits the full length to be,
Fifty the bredth, the height (least of the three)
Full thirty cubits: onely with one light,
A cubit broad, and just so much in hight:
And in three Stories bad him to divide
The inner Roome, and in the Vessels side
To place a doore; commanding Noe to take
Great care thereof: and this his Arke to make
Of Gopher wood, which some will needsly have
To be the Pine-tree, and commandment gave
That the large plancks whereof it was compos'd,
When they by art should curiously be clos'd;
Should with Bitumen both within and out
Be deepely pitcht, the Vessell round about,
So strong a Glue as could not off be worne,
The rage of Winds, and Waters that doth scorne;
Like to a Chest or Coffer it was fram'd,
For which an Arke most fitly it was nam'd;
Not like a Ship, for that a Ship below,
Is ridg'd and narrow, upward but doth grow
Wider and wider: but this mighty Barque,
Built by just Noah, this universall Arke,
Held one true breadth i'th'bottome as above,
That when this Frame upon the Flood should move,
On the falne waters it should float secure,
As it did first the falling shower endure;

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And close above, so to beare out the weather
For forty dayes when it should raine togeather.

A hundred yeares the Arke in building was,
So long the time ere he could bring to passe
This worke intended; all which time just Noy
Cry'd, that th'Almighty would the world destroy,
And as this good man used many a day
To walke abroad, his building to survay,
These cruell Giants comming in to see,
(In their thoughts wondring what this worke should be)
He with erected hands to them doth cry,
Either repent ye, or ye all must dye,

Noah thretning Gods vengeance upon the world: with his sermon of repentance.

Your blasphemies, your beastlinesse, your wrongs,
Are heard to heaven, and with a thousand tongues
Showt in the eares of the Almighty Lord;
So that your sinnes no leasure him affoord
To thinke on mercy, they so thickly throng,
That when he would your punishment prolong,
Their horror hales him on, that from remorce
In his owne nature, you doe him inforce,
Nay, wrest plagues from him, upon humane kinde
Who else to mercy, wholly is inclinde.
From Seth which God to Eva gave in lew
Of her sonne Abel whom his brother slue,
That cursed Cain, how hath th'Almighty blest,
The seed of Adam though he so transgrest,
In Enos by whose godlinesse men came,
At first to call on the Almighties name,
And Enoch, whose integritie was such,
In whom the Lord delighted was so much,
As in his yeers he suffered no decay,
But God to Heaven tooke bodyly away;
With long life blessing all that goodly Stem,
From the first man downe to Mathusalem,
Now from the loynes of Lamech sendeth me,
(Unworthy his Ambassadour to be)
To tell ye yet, if ye at last repent,
He will lay by his wrathfull punishment,

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That God who was so mercifull before,
To our forfathers, likewise hath in store,
Mercy for us their Nephues, if we fall
With teares before him, and he will recall,
His wrath sent out already, therefore flye
To him for mercy, yet the threatning Skie
Pauses, ere it be the Deluge downe will poure,
For every teare you shed, he'll stop a shower;
Yet of th'Almighty mercy you may winne,
He'll leave to punish, if you leave to sinne;
That God eternall, which old Adam cast
Out of the earthly heaven, where he had plac't,
That first-made man, for his forbidden deed,
From thence for ever banishing his seed,
For us his sinfull children doth provide,
And with abundance hath us still supplyd,
And can his blessings who respects you thus,
Make you most wicked, most rebellious:
Still is your stubborne obstinacy such?
Have ye no mercy, and your God so much?
Your God, said I, O wherefore said I so?
Your words deny him, and your works say no;
O see the day, doth but too fast approch,
Wherein heavens maker meanes to set abroach
That world of water, which shall over-flow
Those mighty Mountaines whereon now you goe,
The Dropsied Clouds, see, your destruction threat,
The Sunne and Moone both in their course are set
To warre by water, and doe all they can
To bring destruction upon sinfull man,
And every thing shall suffer for your sake,
For the whole earth shall be but one whole Lake;
Oh cry for mercy, leave your wicked wayes,
And God from time shall separate those dayes
Of vengeance comming, and he shall disperse
These Clouds now threatning the whole universe,
And save the world, which else he will destroy.

But this good man, this terror-preaching Noy,

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The Beares, and Tigers, might have taught aswell,
They laught to heare this godly man to tell
That God would drowne the world, they thought him mad,
For their great maker they forgotten had,
They knew none such, th'Almighty God say they,
What might he be? and when shall be the day
Thou talk'st of to us? canst thou thinke that we
Can but suppose that such a thing can be?
What can he doe that we cannot defeate?
Whose Brawny Fists, to very dust can beate
The solid'st Rock, and with our breasts can beare
The strong'st Streame backward, dost thou thinke to feare
Us with these Dreames of Deluges? to make
Us our owne wayes and courses to forsake?
Let us but see that God that dares to stand
To what thou speak'st, that with his furious hand,
Dare say he'll drowne us, and we will defye
Him to his teeth: and if he keepe the Skye,
We'll dare him thence, and if he then come downe,
And challenge us that he the world will drowne,
We'll follow him untill his threats he stints,
Or we will batter his blew house with flynts.

The Arke is finisht, and the Lord is wrath,
To ayd just Noah, and he provided hath
His blessed Angells, bidding them to bring,
The Male and Female, of each living thing
Into the Arke, by whom he had decreed
T'renue the world, and by their fruitfull seed
To fill it as before, and is precise
For food for men, and for his sacrifice,
That seaven just payres, of Birds, and Beasts that were
Made cleane by him, should happily repayre
To the great Arke, the other made uncleane,
Of male and female onely should come twaine:
Which by the Angels every where were sought,
And thither by their ministry were brought.
When Noah sets ope the Arke and doth begin
To take his Fraught, his mighty Lading in

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And now the Beasts are walking from the wood,
Aswell of Ravine, as that chew the Cud,
The King of Beasts his fury doth suppresse,
And to the Arke leads downe the Lionesse,
The Bull for his beloved mate doth low,
And to the Arke brings on the faire ey'd Cow;
The stately Courser for his Mare doth nay,
And t'wards the new Arke guideth her the way;
The wreath'd-horn'd Ram his safety doth pursue,
And to the Arke ushers his gentle Ewe;
The brisly Boare, who with his snowte up plow'd
The spacious Plaines, and with his grunting lowd,
Rais'd ratling Ecchoes all the Woods about,
Leaves his dark Den, and having sented out
Noah's new-built Arke, in with his Sow doth come,
And stye themselves up in a little roome:
The Hart with his deare Hind, the Buck and Doe,
Leaving their wildnesse, bring the tripping Roe
Along with them: and from the Mountaine steepe,
The clambring Goat, and Cony, us'd to keepe
Amongst the Cleeves, together get, and they
To this great Arke finde out the ready way;
Th'unweildy Elke, whose skin is of much proofe,
Throngs with the rest t'attaine this wooden roofe;
The Unicorne leaves off his pride, and closse
There sets him downe by the Rhinoceros:
The Elephant there comming to imbarque,
And as he softly getteth up the Ark,
Feeling by his great waight, his body sunck,
Holds by his huge Tooth, and his nervy Trunck;
The croock-backt Camel climing to the deck,
Drawes up himselfe with his long sinewy neck;
The spotted Panther whose delicious scent,
Oft causeth beasts his harbor to frequent,
But having got them once into his power,
Sucketh their blood, and doth their flesh devoure,
His cruelty hath quickly cast aside,
And waxing courteous, doth become their guide,

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And brings into this universall Shop
The Ounce, the Tigar, and the Antilop,
By the grim Woolfe, the poore Sheepe safely lay,
And was his care, which lately was his pray;
The Asse upon the Lyon leant his head,
And to the Cat the Mouse for succour fled;
The silly Hare doth cast aside her feare,
And formes her selfe fast by the ugly Beare,
At whom the watchfull Dog did never barke,
When he espyde him clambring up the Arke:
The Fox got in, his subtilties hath left,
And as ashamed of his former theft,
Sadly sits there, as though he did repent,
And in the Arke became an innocent:
The fine-furd Ermin, Martern, and the Cat
That voydeth Civet, there together sat
By the shrewd Muncky, Babian, and the Ape,
With the Hienna, much their like in shape,
Which by their kinde, are ever doing ill,
Yet in the Arke, sit civilly and still;
The skipping Squerrill of the Forrest free,
That leapt so nimbly betwixt tree and tree,
It selfe into the Arke then nimbly cast,
As 'twere a Ship-boy come to clime the Mast.
The Porcupine into the Arke doth make,
Nor his sharpe quils though angry once doth shake;
The sharpe-fang'd Beaver, whose wyde gaping Jaw
Cutteth downe Plants at it were with a Saw,
Whose body poysed, wayeth such a masse,
As though his Bowels were of Lead or Brasse,
His cruell Chaps though breathlesse he doth close,
As with the rest into the Arke he goes.
Th'uneven-leg'd Badger (whose eye-pleasing skin,
The Case to many a curious thing hath bin,
Since that great flood) his fortresses forsakes
Wrought in the earth, and though but halting, makes
Up to the Arke; the Otter then that keepes
In the wild Rivers, in their Bancks and Sleeps,

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And feeds on Fish, which under water still,
He with his keld feet, and keene teeth doth kill;
The other two into the Arke doth follow,
Though his ill shape doth cause him but to wallow;
The Tortoyse and the Hedghog both so slow,
As in their motion scarse discern'd to goe,
Good footmen growne, contrary to their kinde,
Lest from the rest they should be left behinde;
The rooting Mole as to foretell the flood,
Comes out of th'earth, and clambers up the wood;
The little Dormouse leaves her leaden sleepe,
And with the Mole up to the Arke doth creepe,
With many other, which were common then,
Their kinde decayd, but now unknowne to men,
For there was none, that Adam ere did name,
But to the Arke from every quarter came;
By two and two the male and female beast,
From th'swiftst to th'slowest, from greatest to the least,
And as within the strong pale of a Parke,
So were they altogether in the Arke.

And as our God the Beasts had given in charge
To take the Arke, themselves so to imbardge,
He bids the Fowle, the Eagle in his flight,
Cleaving the thin Ayre, on the deck doth light;
Nor are his eyes so piercing to controule
His lowly subjects the farre lesser Fowle,
But the Almighty who all Creatures fram'd,
And them by Adam in the Garden nam'd,
Had given courage, fast by him to sit,
Nor at his sharpe sight are amaz'd one whit;
The Swanne by his great maker taught this good,
T'avoyd the fury of the falling flood,
His Boat-like breast, his wings rais'd for his sayle,
And Ore-like feet, him nothing to avayle
Against the Raine which likely was to fall,
Each drop so great, that like a ponderous Mall,
Might sinke him under water, and might drowne
Him in the Deluge, with the Crane comes downe,

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Whose voyce the Trumpet is, that throw the Ayre
Doth summon all the other to repayre
To the new Arke: when with his mooned traine,
The strutting Peacock yawling 'gainst the raine,
Flutters into the Arke, by his shrill cry,
Telling the rest the Tempest to be ny;
The Iron-eating Estridge, whose bare Thyes
Resembling mans, fearing the lowring Skyes,
Walkes to the great Boat; when the crowned Cock,
That to the Village lately was the Clock,
Comes to rooste by him, with his Hen, foreshewing
The shower should quickly fall, that then was brewing;
The swift-wing'd Swallow feeding as it flyes,
With the fleet Martlet thrilling throw the Skyes,
As at their pastime sportivly they were,
Feeling th'unusuall moisture of the Aer,
Their feathers flag, into the Arke they come,
As to some Rock or building, their owne home;
The ayry Larke his Haleluiah sung,
Finding a slacknesse seaze upon his tong,
By the much moisture, and the Welkin darke,
Drops with his female downe into the Arke;
The soaring Kyte there scantled his large wings,
And to the Arke the hovering Castrill brings;
The Raven comes, and croking, in doth call
The caryon Crow, and she againe doth brall,
Foretelling raine; by these there likewise sat

The Storke used to build upon houses, leaveth ever one behinde him for the owner.

The carefull Storke, since Adam wondred at
For thankfulnesse, to those where he doth breed,
That his ag'd Parents naturally doth feed,
In filiall duty as instructing man:
By them there sate the loving Pellican,
Whose yong ones poysned by the Serpents sting,
With her owne blood to life againe doth bring:
The constant Turtle up her lodging tooke
By these good Birds; and in a little nooke
The Nightingale with her melodious tongue
Sadly there sits, as she had never sung;

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The Merle and Mavis on the highest spray,
Who with their musick, wak't the early day,
From the proud Cedars, to the Arke come downe,
As though forewarn'd, that God the world would drowne;
The prating Parret comes to them aboard,
And is not heard to counterfeit a word;
The Falcon and the Dove sit there together,
And th'one of them doth prune the others feather;
The Goshalke and the Feasant there doe twin,
And in the Arke are pearcht upon one pin,
The Partridge on the Sparhalk there doth tend,
Who entertaines her as a loving friend;
The ravenous Vulture feeles the small Birds sit
Upon his back, and is not mov'd a whit;
Amongst the thickest of these severall fowle
With open eyes still sate the broad-fac'd Owle;
And not a small bird as they wonted were,
Either pursude or wondred at her there.
No waylesse desart, Heath, nor Fen, nor More,
But in by couples, sent some of their store;
The Ospray, and the Cormorant forbeare
To fish, and thither with the rest repayre:
The Hearon leaves watching at the Rivers brim,
And brings the Snyte and Plover in with him.
There came the Halcyon, whom the Sea obeyes,
When she her nest upon the water layes:
The Goose which doth for watchfulnesse excell,
Came for the rest, to be the Sentinell.
The charitable Robinet in came,
Whose nature taught the others to be tame:
All feathered things yet ever knowne to men,

The mighty Indian Bird.

From the huge Rucke, unto the little Wren;
From Forrests, Fields, from Rivers, and from Pons,
All that have webs, or cloven-footed ones;
To the Grand Arke, together friendly came,
Whose severall species were too long to name

The Beasts and Birds thus by the Angels brought,
Noe found his Arke not fully yet was fraught,

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To shut it up for as he did begin,
He still saw Serpents, and their like come in;

Creeping things in the sixt of Gen: the 20. vers.

The Salamander to the Arke retyers,
To flye the Floud, it doth forsake the fiers:
The strange Camelion, comes t'augment the crue,
Yet in the Arke doth never change her hue:
To these poore silly few of harmelesse things,
So were there Serpents, with their teeth and stings
Hurtfull to man, yet will th'Almighty have,
That Noe their seed upon the earth should save:
The watchfull Dragon comes the Arke to keepe,
But lul'd with murmure, gently fals to sleepe:
The cruell Scorpion comes to clime the pyle,
And meeting with the greedy Crocodyle,
Into the Arke together meekely goe,
And like kinde mates themselves they there bestow:
The Dart and Dipsas, to the Arke com'n in,
Infold each other as they were a twinne.
The Cockatrice there kils not with his sight,

The Aspick hath a kell of skin which covereth his teeth untill it be angry.

But in his object joyes, and in the Light;
The deadly killing Aspicke when he seeth,
This world of creatures, sheaths his poysoned teeth,
And with the Adder, and the speckled Snake,
Them to a corner harmlesly betake.
The Lisard shuts up his sharpe-sighted eyes,
Amongst these Serpents, and there sadly lyes.
The small-ey'd slowe-worme held of many blinde,
Yet this great Arke it quickly out could finde,
And as the Arke it was about to clime,
Out of its teeth shutes the invenom'd slime.
These viler Creatures on the earth that creepe,
And with their bellies the cold dewes doe sweepe,
All these base groveling, and ground-licking sute,
From the large

A Serpent of an incredible bignesse.

Boas, to the little Neute;
As well as Birds, or the foure-footed beasts,
Came to the Arke their Hostry as Noes guests.

Thus fully furnisht, Noe need not to carke
For stowidge, for provision for the Arke:

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For that wise God, who first direction gave,
How he the structure of the Arke would have:
And for his servant could provide this fraught,
Which thither he miraculously brought:
And did the food for every thing purvaye,
Taught him on lofts it orderly to laye:
On flesh some feed, as others fish doe eate,
Various the kinde, so various was the meate:
Some on fine grasse, as some on grosser weeds,
As some on fruits, so other some on seeds,
To serve for food for one whole yeare for all,
Untill the Floud, which presently should fall
On the whole world, his hand againe should drayne,
Which under water should that while remaine.
Th'Almighty measur'd the proportion such,
As should not be too little, nor too much:
For he that breath to every thing did give,
Could not that God them likewise make to live,
But with a little; and therewith to thrive,
Who at his pleasure all things can contrive.

Now some there be, too curious at this day,
That from their reason dare not sticke to say,
The Floud a thing fictitious is, and vaine,
Nor that the Arke could possibly containe
Those sundry creatures, from whose being came
All living things man possibly could name.
I say it was not, and I thus oppose
Them by my reason, strong enough for those,
My instance is a mighty Argosie,
That in it beares, beside th'Artillery,
Of fourescore pieces of a mighty Boare,
A thousand souldiers (many times and more)
Besides the sayles, and armes for every one,
Cordage, and Anchors, and provision:
The large-spred Sayles, the Masts both big and tall,
Of all which Noahs Arke had no need at all:
Within the same eight persons onely were,
If such a ship, can such a burthen beare:

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What might the Arke doe, which doth so excell
That Ship, as that ship doth a Cockle shell;
Being so capacious for this mighty load,
So long, so high, and every where so broad;
Beside three lofts just of one perfect strength,
And bearing out proportionably in length:
So fitly built, that being thus imploy'd,
There was not one ynch in the Arke was voyd,
Beside I'le charge their reason to allow
The Cubits doubled to what they are now,
We are but Pigmeyes, (even our tallest men)
To the huge Gyants that were living then:
For but th'Almighty, which (to this intent,)
Ordain'd the Arke, knew it sufficient,
He in his wisedome (had he thought it meet)
Could have bid Noah to have built a Fleet,
And many Creatures on the earth since growne
Before the floud that were to Noah unknowne:
For though the Mule begotten on the Mare,
By the dull Asse (is said) doth never payre;
Yet sundry others, naturally have mixt,

The opinions of the best naturalists that have written.

And those that have beene gotten them betwixt
Others begot, on others from their kinde.
In sundry Clymats, sundry beasts we finde,
That what they were, are nothing now the same,
From one selfe straine, though at the first they came;
But by the soyle they often altred be,
In shape and colour as we daily see.

Now Noahs three sonnes all busie that had bin
To place these creatures as they still came in:
Sem, Ham, and Japheth, with their

The names of the women were Tita, Pandora, Noella and Noegla: as some of the most ancient write, but Epiphanius will have Noes Wifes name to be Barthenon.

Wifes assign'd,
To be the Parents of all humane kinde:
Seeing the Arke thus plentifully stor'd:
The wondrous worke of the Almighty Lord,
Behold their father looking every houre,
For this all-drowning earth-destroying showre,
When Noe their faith thus lastly to awake,
To his lov'd Wife, and their sixe children spake.

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The mighty hand of God doe you not see,
In these his creatures, that so well agree:
Which were they not, thus mastred by his power,
Us silly eight would greedily devoure:
And with their hoofes and pawes, to splinters rend
This onely Arke, in which God doth intend
We from the Floud that remnant shall remaine,
T'restore the world, in aged Adams straine:
Yee seaven, with sad astonishment then see
The wondrous things the Lord hath wrought for me.
What have I done, so gracious in his sight,
Fraile wretched man, but that I justly might
Have with the earths abhominable brood,
Bin over-whelm'd, and buried in the Floud:
But in his judgement, that he hath decreed,
That from my loynes by your successefull seed,
The earth shall be replenished agen,
And the Almighty be at peace with men.
A hundred yeares are past (as well you know)
Since the Almighty God, his power to show
Taught me the Modell of this mighty frame,
And it the Arke commanded me to name.
Be strong in faith, for now the time is nye,
That from the conducts of the lofty skie,
The Floud shall fall, that in short time shall beare
This Arke we are in up into the ayre,
Where it shall floate, and further in the end,
Shall fifteene cubits the high'st hils transcend.
Then bid the goodly fruitfull earth adue,
For the next time it shall be seene of you,
It with an ill complexion shall appeare,
The weight of waters shall have chang'd her cheere.
Be not affrighted, when ye heare the rore
Of the wide Waters when they charge the shore,
Nor be dismaid at all, when you shall feele
Th'unweeldy Arke from wave to wave to reele:
Nor at the shreekes of those that swimming by
On Trees and Rafters, shall for succour cry,

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O ye most lov'd of God, O take us in,
For we are guilty, and confesse our sinne.

Thus whilst he spake, the skyes grew thicke and darke,
And a blacke cloud hung hovering o're the Arke.
Venus and Mars, God puts this worke upon:

God makes the Starres his instruments to punish the wicked.

Jupiter and Saturne in conjunction
I'th tayle of Cancer, inundations thret.
Luna disposed generally to wet,
The Hiades and Pliades put too
Their helpes; Orion doth what he can doe.
No starre so small, but some one drop let downe,
And all conspire the wicked world to drowne:
On the wide heaven there was not any signe,
To watry Pisces but it doth incline.

Now some will aske, when th'Almighty God, (but Noy
And his) by waters did the world destroy;
Whether those seaven then in Arke were good,
And just as he, (reserved from the Floud)
Or that th'Almighty for his onely sake,
Did on the other such compassion take:
'Tis doubtlesse Noe, being one so cleerely just,
That God did with his secret judgements trust
From the whole world; one that so long had knowne
That living Lord, would likewise teach his owne
To know him too, who by this meane might be,
As well within the Covenant as he.

By this the Sunne had suckt up the vaste deepe,
And in grosse clouds like Cesternes did it keepe:
The Starres and signes by Gods great wisedome set,

A description of the Tempest, at the falling of the Deluge.

By their conjunctions waters to beget,
Had wrought their utmost, and even now began
Th'Almighties justice upon sinfull man:
From every severall quarter of the skye,
The Thunder rores, and the fierce Lightnings flye
One at another, and together dash,
Volue on volue, flash comes after flash:
Heavens lights looke sad, as they would melt away,
The night is com'n i'th morning of the day:

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The Card'nall Windes he makes at once to blow,
Whose blasts to buffets with such fury goe,
That they themselves into the Center shot
Into the bowels of the earth and got,
Being condens'd and strongly stifned there,

Water is but ayre condens'd.

In such strange manner multiply'd the ayre,
Which turn'd to water, and increast the springs
To that abundance, that the earth forth brings
Water to drowne her selfe, should heaven deny,
With one small drop the Deluge to supply,
That through her pores, the soft and spungy earth,
As in a dropsie, or unkindely birth,
A Woman, swolne, sends from her fluxive wombe
Her woosie springs, that there was scarcely roome
For the waste waters which came in so fast,
As though the earth her entrailes up would cast.
But these seem'd yet, but easily let goe,
And from some Sluce came softly in, and slow,
Till Gods great hand so squees'd the boysterous clouds,
That from the spouts of heavens embatteld shrouds,
Even like a Floud-gate pluckt up by the height,
Came the wilde raine, with such a pondrous weight,
As that the fiercenesse of the hurrying floud,
Remov'd huge Rockes, and ram'd them into mud:
Pressing the ground, with that impetuous power,
As that the first shocke of this drowning shower,
Furrow'd the earths late plumpe and cheerefull face
Like an old Woman, that in little space
With ryveld cheekes, and with bleard blubberd eyes,
She wistly look'd upon the troubled skyes.
Up to some Mountaine as the people make,
Driving their Cattell till the shower should slake;
The Floud oretakes them, and away doth sweepe
Great heards of Neate, and mighty flockes of Sheepe.
Downe through a valley as one streame doth come,
Whose roaring strikes the neighbouring Eccho dumbe:
Another meetes it, and whilst there they strive,
Which of them two the other backe should drive;

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Their dreadfull currents they together dash,
So that their waves like furious Tydes doe wash
The head of some neere hill, which falleth downe
For very feare, as it, it selfe would drowne.
Some backe their Beasts, so hoping to swimme out,
But by the Floud, incompassed about
Are overwhelm'd, some clamber up to Towers,
But these and them, the deluge soone devoures:
Some to the top of Pynes and Cedars get,
Thinking themselves they safely there should set:
But the rude Floud that over all doth sway,
Quickly comes up, and carrieth them away.
The Roes much swiftnesse, doth no more availe,

The Roe Deere the swiftest Beast knowne.

Nor helpe him now, then if he were a Snayle:
The swift-wing'd Swallow, and the slow-wing'd Owle,
The fleetest Bird, and the most flagging Fowle,
Are at one passe, the Floud so high hath gone,
There was no ground to set a foot upon:
Those Fowle that followed moystnesse, now it flye,
And leave the wet Land, to finde out the dry:
But by the mighty tempest beaten downe,
On the blancke water they doe lye and drowne:
The strong-built Tower is quickly overborne,
The o're-growne Oake out of the earth is torne:
The subtile shower the earth hath softned so,
And with the waves, the trees tost to and fro;
That the rootes loosen, and the tops downe sway,
So that whole Forrests quickly swimme away.
Th'offended heaven had shut up all her lights,
The Sunne nor Moone make neither daies nor nights:
The waters so exceedingly abound
That in short time the Sea it selfe is drownd.
That by the freshnesse of the falling raine,
Neptune no more his saltnesse doth retaine:
So that those scaly creatures us'd to keepe,
The mighty wasts of the immeasured deepe:
Finding the generall and their naturall bracke,
The taste and colour every were to lacke;

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Forsake those Seas wherein they swamme before,
Strangely oppressed with their watry store.
The crooked Dolphin on those Mountaines playes,
Whereas before that time, not many daies
The Goate was grazing; and the mighty Whale,
Upon a Rocke out of his way doth fall:
From whence before one eas'ly might have seene,
The wandring clouds farre under to have beene.
The Grampus, and the Whirlpoole, as they rove,
Lighting by chance upon a lofty Grove
Under this world of waters, are so much
Pleas'd with their wombes each tender branch to touch,
That they leave slyme upon the curled Sprayes,
On which the Birds sung their harmonious Layes.
As huge as Hills still waves are wallowing in,
Which from the world so wondrously doe winne,
That the tall Mountaines which on tipto stood,
As though they scorn'd the force of any flood,
No eye of heaven of their proud tops could see
One foot, from this great inundation free.

A simily of the grosnesse of the Deluge

As in the Chaos ere the frame was fix'd
The Ayre and water were so strongly mix'd,
And such a Bulke of Grosenesse doe compose,
As in those thick Clouds which the Globe inclose,
Th'all-working Spirit were yet againe to wade,
And heaven and earth againe were to be made.
Meane while this great and universall Arke,
Like one by night were groping in the darke,
Now by one Billow, then another rockt,
Within whose boards all living things were lockt;
Yet Noah his safety not at all doth feare,
For still the Angels his blest Barge doe steere:
But now the Shower continued had so long,
The inundation waxt so wondrous strong,
That fifteene Cubits caus'd the Arke to move
The highest part of any Hill above:
And the grosse earth so violently binds,
That in their Coasts it had inclos'd the winds;

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So that the whole wide surface of the flood,
As in the full height of the tyde it stood,
Was then as sleeke and even as the Seas
In the most still and calmest Halcyon dayes:
The Birds, the Beasts and Serpents safe on board,
With admiration looke upon thir Lord,
The righteous Noah: and with submissive feare,
Tremble his grave and awfull voyce to heare,
When to his Houshould (during their aboad)
He preacht the power of the Almighty God.

Deare wife and children, quoth this godly Noy,

Noah preaching faith to his family.

Since the Almighty vow'd he would destroy
The wicked world, a hundred yeares are past,
And see, he hath performed it at last;
In us poore few, the world consists alone,
And besides us, there not remaineth one,
But from our seed, the emptied earth agen,
Must be repeopled with the race of men;
Then since thus farre his covenant is true
Build ye your faith, on that which shall ensue:
Such is our God, who thus did us imbarque
(As his select) to save us by the Arke,
And only he whose Angels guard our Boat,
Knowes over what strange Region now we float,
Or we from hence that very place can sound,
From which the Arke was lifted first from ground:
He that can span the world, and with a grip,
Out of the bowels of the clouds could rip
This masse of waters, whose abundant birth,
Almost to heaven thus drowneth up the earth;
He can remove this Round if he shall please,
And with these waters can sup up the Seas,
Can cause the Starres out of their Sphears to fall,
And on the winds can tosse this earthy Ball,
He can wrest drops from the Sunnes radient beames,
And can force fire from the most liquid streames,
He curles the waves with whirlwinds, and doth make
The solid Center fearfully to shake,

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He can stirre up the Elements to warres,
And at his pleasure can compose their Jarres,
The Sands serve not his wondrous workes to count,
Yet doth his mercy all his workes surmount,
His Rule and Power eternally endures,
He was your Fathers God, he's mine, he's yours,
In him deare wife and children put your trust,
He onely is Almighty, onely just.

But on the earth the waters were so strong,
And now the flood continued had so long,
That the let yeare foreslow'd about to bring
The Summer, Autumne, Winter, and the Spring,

The revolution of the yeare by a short Periphrasis.

The Gyring Planets with their starry traine,
Downe to the South had sunck, and rose againe
Up towards the North, whilst the terrestriall Globe
Had bin involved in this watry Robe,
During which season every twinckling light
In their still motion, at this monstrous sight,
By their complection a distraction show'd,
Looking like Embers that through ashes glow'd.
When righteous Noah remembreth at the last,
The time prefix'd to be approaching fast,
After a hundred fifty dayes were gone,
Which to their period then were drawing on,
The flood should somewhat slack, God promist so,
On which relying, the just godly Noe,
To try if then but one poore foot of ground,
Free from the flood might any where be found,
Lets forth a Raven, which straight cuts the Skye,
And wondrous proud his restyed wings to try,
In a large circle girdeth in the Ayre,
First to the East, then to the South, doth beare,
Followes the Sunne, then towards his going forth,
And then runnes up into the rysing North,
Thence climes the clouds to prove if his sharpe eye
From that proud pitch could possibly descry
Of some tall Rock-crown'd Mountaine, a small stone
A minuts space to set his foot upon,

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But finding his long labour but in vaine,
Returneth wearied to the Arke againe,
By which Noah knew he longer yet must stay,
For the whole earth still under water lay.

Seaven dayes he rests, but yet he would not cease,
(For that he knew the flood must needs decrease)
But as the Raven late, he next sends out
The damaske coloured Dove, his nimble Scout,
Which thrils the thin Ayre, and his pyneons plyes,
That like to lightning, glyding through the Skyes,
His sundry coloured feathers by the Sunne,
As his swift shadow on the Lake doth runne,
Causeth a twinckling both at hand and farre,
Like that we call the shooting of a Starre;
But finding yet that labour lost had bin,
Comes back to Noah, who gently takes him in.

Noah rests awhile, but meaning still to prove
A second search, againe sends out the Dove,
After other seaven, some better newes to bring,
Which by the strength of his unwearied wing
Findes out at last, a place for his aboad,
When the glad Bird stayes all the day abroad,
And wondrous proud that he a place had found,
Who of a long time had not toucht the ground,
Drawes in his head, and thrusteth out his breast,
Spreadeth his tayle, and swelleth up his crest,
And turning round and round with Cuttry cooe,
As when the female Pigeon and he wooe;
Bathing himselfe, which long he had not done,
And dryes his feathers in the welcome Sunne,
Pruning his plumage, clensing every quill,
And going back, he beareth in his bill
An Olive leafe, by which Noah understood
The great decrease and waning of the flood:
For that on Mountaines Olives seldome grow,
But in flat Valleys, and in places low;
Never such comfort came to mortall man,
Never such joy was since the world began,

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As in the Arke, when Noah and his behold
The Olive leafe, which certainly them told,
The flood decreas'd, and they such comfort take,
That with their mirth, the Birds and Beasts they make
Sportive, which send forth such a hollow noyse
As said they were partakers of their joyes.
The Lion roares, but quickly doth forbeare,
Lest he thereby the lesser Beasts should feare,
The Bull doth bellow, and the Horse doth nay,
The Stag, the Buck, and shaghayrd Goat doe bray,
The Boare doth grunt, the Woolfe doth howle, the Ram
Doth bleate, which yet so faintly from him came,
As though for very joy he seem'd to weepe,
The Ape and Muncky such a chattering keepe
With their thin lips, which they so well exprest,
As they would say, we hope to be releast;
The silly Asse set open such a throat,
That all the Arke resounded with the note;
The watchfull Dog doth play, and skip, and barke,
And leaps upon his Masters in the Arke,
The Raven crokes, the caryon Crow doth squall,
The Pye doth chatter, and the Partridge call,
The jocund Cock crowes as he claps his wings,
The Merle doth whistle, and the Mavis sings,
The Nightingale straines her melodious throat,
Which of the small Birds being heard to roat,
They soone set to her, each a part doth take,
As by their musick up a Quire to make,
The Parrat lately sad, then talks and jeeres,
And counterfeiteth every sound he heares,
The purblind Owle which heareth all this doo,
T'expresse her gladnesse, cryes Too whit too whoo.
No Beast nor Bird was in the Arke with Noy,
But in their kinde exprest some signe of joy;
When that just man who did himselfe apply
Still, to his deare and godly family,
Thus to them spake (and with erected hands
The like obedience from the rest demands)

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The worlds foundation is not halfe so sure
As is Gods promise, nor is heaven so pure
As is his word, to me most sinfull man;
To take the Arke who when I first began
Sayd on the hundred and the fiftieth day,
I should perceive the Deluge to decay,
And 'tis most certaine, as you well may know
Which this poore Pidgeon by this leafe doth show.
He that so long could make the waters stand
Above the earth, see how his powerfull hand
Thrusts them before it, and so fast doth drive
The Big swolne Billowes, that they seeme to strive
Which shall fly fastest on that secret path,
Whence first they came, to execute his wrath,
The Sunne which melted every Cloud to Raine,
He makes it now to sup it up againe:
The wind by which he brought it on before
In their declining drives it o'r and o'r,
The tongs of Angells serve not to expresse,
Neither his mercy, nor his mightinesse,
Be joyfull then in our greate God (sayth he)
For we the Parents of Mankind shall be:
From us poore few, (his pleasure that attend)
Shall all the Nations of the earth descend;

When righteous Noy desirous still to heare,
In what estate th'unweeldy waters were,
Sends foorth the Dove as he had done before,
But it found drie land and came backe no more,
Whereby this man precisely understood,
The greate decrease of this world-drowning floud:
Thus as the Arke is floating on the mayne,
As when the floud rose, in the fall againe,
With Currents still encountred every where
Forward and backeward which it still doe beare,
As the streame straytneth, by the rising Cleeves

Mountains of a wondrous height, either within, or bordering upon Armenia.

Of the tall Mountaines, 'twixt which oft it drives,
Untill at length by Gods Almighty hand,
It on the hills of Ararat doth land.

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When those within it felt the Arke to strike,
On the firme ground, was ever comfort like
To theirs, which felt it fixed there to stay,
And found the waters went so fast away;
That Noah set up the covering of the Arke,
That those which long had sitten in the darke,
Might be saluted with the cheerfull light,
(O since the world, was ever such a sight!)
That creeping things aswell as Bird or Beast,
Their severall comforts sundry wayes exprest?
His wife and children then ascend to see
What place it was so happy that should be
For th'Arke to rest on, where they saw a Plaine,
A Mountaines top which seemed to containe,
On which they might discerne within their ken,
The carkasses of Birds, of Beasts, and men,
Choak'd by the Deluge, when Noah spake them thus,

Behold th'Almighties mercy shew'd to us,
That thorow the waves our way not onely wrought,
But to these Mountaines safely hath us brought,
Whose daynty tops all earthly pleasures crowne
And one the Greene-sward sets us safely downe.
Had our most gratious God not beene our guide
The Arke had fallne upon some Mountaine-side,
And with a Rush removing of our fraight
Might well have turnd it backward with the waight
Or by these Billows lastly over borne
Or on some Rocke her ribbs might have bin torne.
But see except these heere, each living thing
That crept, or went, or kept the Aire with wing,
Lye heere before us to manure the Land,
Such is the power of Gods all workeing hand.

In the sixhundred yeere of that just man

In May according to the Expositors.

The second month, the seventeenth day began,
That horrid Deluge when Heavens windows were
At once all opened, then did first appeare
Th'Allmightys wrath, when for full forty days
There raynd from Heaven not showers but mighty seas,

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A hundred fifty dayes that so prevayld,
Above the Mountaines till the great Arke sayld,
In the seaventh moneth, upon the seaventeenth day,

Part of September and part of October.

Like a Ship falne into a quyet Bay,
It on the Hils of Ararat doth light:
But Noah deny'd yet to discharge the Fraight,
For that the Mountaines cleerely were not seene,
Till the first day of the tenth mon'th, when Greene
Smyld on the blew Skyes, when the earth began
To looke up cheerly, yet the waters ran
Still throw the Valleyes, till the mon'th againe

In the same moneth the flood began, it ceast: which made up the yeare.

In which before it first began to rayne;
Of which, the seaven and twentieth day expyr'd,
Quite from the earth the waters were retyr'd:
When the almighty God bad Noah to set
Open the Arke, at liberty to let
The Beasts, the Birds, and creeping things, which came
Like as when first they went into the same,
Each male comes downe, his female by his side,
As 'twere the Bridgroome bringing out his Bride,
Till th'Arke was emptied, and that mighty load,
For a whole yeare that there had bin bestow'd,
(Since first that forty-dayes still-falling raine
That drown'd the world, was then dry'd up againe)
Which with much gladnesse doe salute the ground,
The lighter sort some caper, and some bound,
The heavier creatures tumble them, as glad
That they such ease by their enlargement had,
The creeping things together fall to play,
Joy'd beyond measure, for this happy day,
The Birds let from this Cage, doe mount the Skye,
To shew, they yet had not forgot to flye,
And sporting them upon the ayry plaine,
Yet to their master Noah they stoope againe,
To leave his presence, and doe still forbeare,
Till they from him of their release might heare,
The Beasts each other wooe, the Birds they bill,
As they would say to Noe, they ment to fill

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The roomthy earth, then altogether voyd;
And make, what late the deluge had destroyd.
When Righteous Noye, who ever had regard
To serve his God, immediately prepar'd
To sacrifice, and of the cleanest Beasts
That in the Arke this while had bin his guests,
He seaseth, (yet obedient to his will)
And of them, he for sacrifice doth kill:
Which he and his religiously attend,
And with the smoake their vowes and thankes ascend,
Which pleas'd th'Almighty, that he promis'd then,
Never by floud to drowne the world agen.
And that mankinde his covenant might know,
He in the clouds left the celestiall Bow.

When to these living things quoth righteous Noe,
Now take you all free liberty to goe,
And every way doe you your selves disperse,
Till you have fild this globy universe
With your increase, let every soyle be yours,
He that hath sav'd yee, faithfully assures
Your propagation: and deare wife quoth he,
And you my children, let your trust still be
In your preserver, and on him relye,
Whose promise is that we shall multiply,
Till in our dayes, of nations we shall heare
From us poore few in th'Arke that lately were.
To make a new world, thus works every one,
The Deluge ceaseth, and the old is gone.