The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ An Heroic Poem: Dedicated to Her Most Sacred Majesty. In Ten Books. Attempted by Samuel Wesley ... Each Book illustrated by necessary Notes, explaining all the more difficult Matters in the whole History: Also a Prefatory Discourse concerning Heroic Poetry. With Sixty Copper-Plates |
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 | The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ |  |
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BOOK X. The RESURRECTION.
THE ARGUMENT OF THE Tenth BOOK.
After
a Discourse of the pleasure of seeing Virtue triumphant,
notwithstanding all Misfortunes, and an Invocation of the
Blessed SPIRITS Assistance, for the happy Conclusion
of the Work. Joseph of Arimathæa is introduced going to Pilate
and boldly begging the Body of our Saviour, which being granted,
he repairs to the Cross and takes it thence, after a Souldier had pierced
the Side with a Spear, Blood and Water flowing out of the Wound; then
bears it to his Garden, and lays it in his own Sepulchre, accompanied by
the Blessed Virgin and other Friends. The Triumphs among the Devils
at the Death of our Saviour: Lucifer's Speech on that occasion, ordering
all the Devils to repair to Earth agen, and repossess their Oracles. While he's in
the heighth of his Exultation, our Saviour enters Hell with a Guard of Angels,
and all the Devils flying at his sight, and sinking into the Lake, carries
with him to Paradise some of those Persons who were lost in the Universal
Deluge. The Third Day, his Soul and Body being now agen united, and
he rising from the Grave, Mary Magdalen, and other Women, go to the Sepulchre
to Embalm him, but find him to be gone; and receive an account of his
Resurrection, from a Vision of Angels, directing 'em to go and acquaint
his Disciples with the News. Mary Magdalen stays and sees our Saviour
himself, who orders her on the same Message; on which S. Peter and S. John
run to the Sepulchre, and find the Body to be gone; but returning, can not gain
lief of the rest, till our Saviour himself appears amongst them; S. Thomas
being then absent, and still incredulous. Soon after, two others, to whom our
Lord discovered himself at Emmaus come in, and relate the whole Story;
which S. Thomas not yet believing, Jesus himself appears, and shewing him
his Wounds, fully convinces him—Ordering all the Disciples to meet him
at Tabor in Galilee, who going thither for that end, he first appears to 'em
as they were Fishing on the Sea of Tiberias, where he tries S. Peter's Faith,
and foretells his Martyrdom. Thence meeting many of his Followers on
Mount Tabor, he orders 'em all to Jerusalem, there to take his last Farewel:
Where being arriv'd, he takes them out to Bethany; and after his
last Discourse and Promise to be with them to the End of the World, the
Heavenly Host appear, and Sing an Anthem, being part of the 24th Psalm,
while our Saviour is Ascending; who, just as he disappears from the Disciples,
orders two Angels back to Mount Oliver, to comfort them with the Promise
of his Return; who thereupon depart again with Joy to Jerusalem.
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O how
refreshing is't, how dear a Sight,
When Virtue emerges out of Clouds and Night!
To see her all her groveling Foes despise,
To see the Tyrant fall and Hero rise!
True Worth survives the Grave, rude Winds the Fruit
May blast, but 'tis immortal in the Root.
Beat on Affliction's Billows! 'Tis in vain,
The Rock will still impregnable remain;
The Storm tho' fierce, will soon or late blow o'er,
And we with Shouts shall reach the happy Shore,
Where our great Captain is arriv'd before.
When Virtue emerges out of Clouds and Night!
To see her all her groveling Foes despise,
To see the Tyrant fall and Hero rise!
True Worth survives the Grave, rude Winds the Fruit
May blast, but 'tis immortal in the Root.
Beat on Affliction's Billows! 'Tis in vain,
The Rock will still impregnable remain;
The Storm tho' fierce, will soon or late blow o'er,
And we with Shouts shall reach the happy Shore,
Where our great Captain is arriv'd before.
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Kind Spirit, who from the dark tumult'ous Wave
Didst raise a beauteous VVorld, O hear and save!
Save and direct, direct our feeble Bark,
As once thou didst the weary wand'ring Ark!
Remove the Clouds, be all serene and fair
Like thee, O gentle Blast of Heav'nly Air!
Let this last Voyage no rough storms molest,
Then, of our dear, long-wish'd-for Port possest,
We'd gladly Anchor in eternal Rest.
Didst raise a beauteous VVorld, O hear and save!
Save and direct, direct our feeble Bark,
As once thou didst the weary wand'ring Ark!
Remove the Clouds, be all serene and fair
Like thee, O gentle Blast of Heav'nly Air!
Let this last Voyage no rough storms molest,
Then, of our dear, long-wish'd-for Port possest,
We'd gladly Anchor in eternal Rest.
And now true Night in the disorder'd Skies,
Prepares, at her appointed Hours, to rise;
But wonders that her Task's perform'd before,
Nay blacker Veils spread all the Æther o'er:
Still high in gloomy Air the Bodies stood
Expos'd, and Tortur'd on th' unlucky VVood;
Tortur'd the Two, but from his spotless Breast,
The Thirds bright Soul was fled to endless Rest:
Nor longer cou'd the generous Joseph bear,
To see his Friends sad mangled Reliques there;
But while far off his scatter'd Household fled,
Their Faith and Courage with their Master Dead:
With Nicodemus, his old prudent Friend,
Affraid no more, do's from the Hill descend,
Where sad Spectators near the Cross they were,
Boldly to beg the Body, and Inter,
With silence, in his own new Sepulcher:
There, if his just Request successful prove,
To pay the last due Debt of Tears and Love:
Thus who boast highest, first the Cause forsake,
Thus Converts oft the best of Christians make.
With Pious hast they both to Pilate ran,
To whom, undaunted, Joseph thus began.
Prepares, at her appointed Hours, to rise;
But wonders that her Task's perform'd before,
Nay blacker Veils spread all the Æther o'er:
Still high in gloomy Air the Bodies stood
Expos'd, and Tortur'd on th' unlucky VVood;
Tortur'd the Two, but from his spotless Breast,
The Thirds bright Soul was fled to endless Rest:
Nor longer cou'd the generous Joseph bear,
To see his Friends sad mangled Reliques there;
But while far off his scatter'd Household fled,
Their Faith and Courage with their Master Dead:
With Nicodemus, his old prudent Friend,
Affraid no more, do's from the Hill descend,
Where sad Spectators near the Cross they were,
Boldly to beg the Body, and Inter,
With silence, in his own new Sepulcher:
There, if his just Request successful prove,
To pay the last due Debt of Tears and Love:
Thus who boast highest, first the Cause forsake,
Thus Converts oft the best of Christians make.
With Pious hast they both to Pilate ran,
To whom, undaunted, Joseph thus began.
Brave Roman, whom our Nations Spite and Rage,
Now first did in an unjust Act engage:
As noble Pontius wou'd be still thought free,
And only Passive in their Cruelty;
And bear to distant Ages, distant Lands
His Fame, as clean and spotless as his Hands;
T'his humble Suppliants let be restor'd,
The breathless dear Remains of our lov'd Lord:
Nor will the Priests themselves, howe'er they rave,
Urge on their Hatred, e'en beyond the Grave;
He's cold and lifeless now, their Fear is o'er,
Nor can he them or Cesar injure more:
Grant then we for his Body may return,
Due Honours pay, at his sad Fun'ral mourn,
And sprinkle Tears and Flow'rs around his Urn.
Now first did in an unjust Act engage:
As noble Pontius wou'd be still thought free,
And only Passive in their Cruelty;
And bear to distant Ages, distant Lands
His Fame, as clean and spotless as his Hands;
T'his humble Suppliants let be restor'd,
The breathless dear Remains of our lov'd Lord:
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Urge on their Hatred, e'en beyond the Grave;
He's cold and lifeless now, their Fear is o'er,
Nor can he them or Cesar injure more:
Grant then we for his Body may return,
Due Honours pay, at his sad Fun'ral mourn,
And sprinkle Tears and Flow'rs around his Urn.
The Roman thus—Witness each sacred Pow'r,
Witness the common Jove we all adore,
Father of Men and Gods; with how much Joy
I'd him restore, how griev'd did him destroy;
Restore you your whole Friend, whom publick Spite
And Rage, have robb'd of our etherial Light:
Take what remains, I gladly that restore,
And take my Grief that I can give no more.
Witness the common Jove we all adore,
Father of Men and Gods; with how much Joy
I'd him restore, how griev'd did him destroy;
Restore you your whole Friend, whom publick Spite
And Rage, have robb'd of our etherial Light:
Take what remains, I gladly that restore,
And take my Grief that I can give no more.
Their wish'd Request obtain'd, they hast away,
And but to give the Donor thanks cou'd stay:
The Hill surmounted soon, abrupt appear'd
No more, nor more the Guards around they fear'd:
Arm'd Troops and glitt'ring Helmets, dreadful bright,
Projecting far away their dazling Light:
“Of Murder'd Men the low lamenting Voice,
“Mixt with the Murderers confused Noise
They heard, yet onward went with pious hast,
Thro' Crouds unarm'd or arm'd alike they past:
Till to the fatal Scene of Death arriv'd,
Where new Barbarities were still contriv'd;
Still new Effects of pop'lar Rage they found;
The mangled bleeding Body's on the Ground:
A single Death's too little, they'd invent,
Beyond the Cross it self, a Punishment:
The Bodies must expos'd no longer stay,
T'unhallow their approaching Paschal Day,
And damp their festal Joys; new Arts they try,
And with new Torments make 'em more than Dye:
With pond'rous Staves and Sledges crush'd their Bones,
Ecchoes the Mountain with their Strokes and Groans.
The half-dead Wretches supplicate in vain
For some kind Stab to ease their ling'ring Pain:
Jesus alone had his meek Soul resign'd,
And spar'd their Cruelty; his Head reclin'd,
On his torn Shoulders lay, enrag'd they cry'd,
He had deceiv'd 'em, and too mildly Dy'd:
Enrag'd, they such a disappointment found;
They e'en the senseless Carcass gore and wound:
A Soldier, blind with Fury, snatch'd a Spear,
Which Death on its sharp Point in vain did wear,
And darts it at his Side, out springs a flood
Of purest Limpid Water, joyn'd with Blood;
Joyn'd, not confus'd, as thro' thin Crystal shine,
The sparkling Drops of Gaza's noble Vine:
True Types of those blest Streams which ever flow
From Gods high Throne, t'enrich the World below;
Th' inestimable Sanctions of our Bliss,
Those Streams which glad the Churches Paradise;
That sacred Laver, and that Banquet high,
Where those who Bath and Feast shall never Die.
And but to give the Donor thanks cou'd stay:
The Hill surmounted soon, abrupt appear'd
No more, nor more the Guards around they fear'd:
Arm'd Troops and glitt'ring Helmets, dreadful bright,
Projecting far away their dazling Light:
“Of Murder'd Men the low lamenting Voice,
“Mixt with the Murderers confused Noise
They heard, yet onward went with pious hast,
Thro' Crouds unarm'd or arm'd alike they past:
Till to the fatal Scene of Death arriv'd,
Where new Barbarities were still contriv'd;
Still new Effects of pop'lar Rage they found;
The mangled bleeding Body's on the Ground:
A single Death's too little, they'd invent,
Beyond the Cross it self, a Punishment:
The Bodies must expos'd no longer stay,
T'unhallow their approaching Paschal Day,
And damp their festal Joys; new Arts they try,
And with new Torments make 'em more than Dye:
With pond'rous Staves and Sledges crush'd their Bones,
Ecchoes the Mountain with their Strokes and Groans.
The half-dead Wretches supplicate in vain
For some kind Stab to ease their ling'ring Pain:
Jesus alone had his meek Soul resign'd,
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On his torn Shoulders lay, enrag'd they cry'd,
He had deceiv'd 'em, and too mildly Dy'd:
Enrag'd, they such a disappointment found;
They e'en the senseless Carcass gore and wound:
A Soldier, blind with Fury, snatch'd a Spear,
Which Death on its sharp Point in vain did wear,
And darts it at his Side, out springs a flood
Of purest Limpid Water, joyn'd with Blood;
Joyn'd, not confus'd, as thro' thin Crystal shine,
The sparkling Drops of Gaza's noble Vine:
True Types of those blest Streams which ever flow
From Gods high Throne, t'enrich the World below;
Th' inestimable Sanctions of our Bliss,
Those Streams which glad the Churches Paradise;
That sacred Laver, and that Banquet high,
Where those who Bath and Feast shall never Die.
While this transacting, Joseph thither came,
And strait ascends the Tree—(Love knows no Shame;)
Himself ascends, and from th' accursed Wood
Takes his dead Friend, cover'd with Wounds and Blood,
And to his own fair Garden sadly bore,
Where oft his lov'd Disciples met before;
Then, near the Tomb lay down their precious Load,
The wond'rous Reliques of a suff'ring God.
And strait ascends the Tree—(Love knows no Shame;)
Himself ascends, and from th' accursed Wood
Takes his dead Friend, cover'd with Wounds and Blood,
And to his own fair Garden sadly bore,
Where oft his lov'd Disciples met before;
Then, near the Tomb lay down their precious Load,
The wond'rous Reliques of a suff'ring God.
Hither, bright Heav'nly Youths, O hither bring,
The Glories of your own eternal Spring!
Of ev'ry Flow'r that in fair Eden grows,
The dying Hero's funeral Pomp compose,
Mix'd with Engeddi's Spice, and Sharon's Rose;
And when you all your Sweets have round him spread,
Tho' ne'er till this sad Hour, a Tear you shed,
Weep, O Immortals! Weep! your Lord is Dead.
The Glories of your own eternal Spring!
Of ev'ry Flow'r that in fair Eden grows,
The dying Hero's funeral Pomp compose,
Mix'd with Engeddi's Spice, and Sharon's Rose;
And when you all your Sweets have round him spread,
Tho' ne'er till this sad Hour, a Tear you shed,
Weep, O Immortals! Weep! your Lord is Dead.
Or if you still refuse your courteous Aid,
We'll ask no more, for see the Heav'nly Maid;
The Virgin-Mother can that Office do,
With as much Grace and Purity as you.
On the hard Rock behold her seated there!
Whilst all her sad Companions rend the Air
With loud Laments, the Hills repeat their Cries,
She only silent, her exhausted Eyes,
Have not one precious Drop, one single Tear;
Her Grief so decent, shou'd she but appear
In Publick, all the World wou'd Mourning wear.
Silent, and still, as deepest Waters flow,
What Breast but hers cou'd hold the mighty Woe?
She saw his Soul from his pale Body fled,
She saw her Hope, her Life, her Saviour dead;
Her wond'rous Son, no Pangs at his first Breath,
But ah! they're more than doubl'd at his Death:
In her sad Arms, he all-a-Carcass lies,
Deaths heavy Iron Slumber seals his Eyes;
His Eyes fast clos'd, altho' his Wounds gape wide,
Those Wounds which rend his Feet, his Hands, his Side;
She Kisses both, while her Companions tear,
With loud Complaints, their Garments and their Hair;
Scarce are they by the Men at length restrain'd,
Who not their own unruly Tears command:
To his pale Corps the last due Honours pay,
And in the Marble Vault lamenting lay;
And dewy Night descending, leave the Tomb,
Conducting safely the great Mourner home.
We'll ask no more, for see the Heav'nly Maid;
The Virgin-Mother can that Office do,
With as much Grace and Purity as you.
On the hard Rock behold her seated there!
Whilst all her sad Companions rend the Air
With loud Laments, the Hills repeat their Cries,
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Have not one precious Drop, one single Tear;
Her Grief so decent, shou'd she but appear
In Publick, all the World wou'd Mourning wear.
Silent, and still, as deepest Waters flow,
What Breast but hers cou'd hold the mighty Woe?
She saw his Soul from his pale Body fled,
She saw her Hope, her Life, her Saviour dead;
Her wond'rous Son, no Pangs at his first Breath,
But ah! they're more than doubl'd at his Death:
In her sad Arms, he all-a-Carcass lies,
Deaths heavy Iron Slumber seals his Eyes;
His Eyes fast clos'd, altho' his Wounds gape wide,
Those Wounds which rend his Feet, his Hands, his Side;
She Kisses both, while her Companions tear,
With loud Complaints, their Garments and their Hair;
Scarce are they by the Men at length restrain'd,
Who not their own unruly Tears command:
To his pale Corps the last due Honours pay,
And in the Marble Vault lamenting lay;
And dewy Night descending, leave the Tomb,
Conducting safely the great Mourner home.
Mean while the World a gen'ral Grief exprest,
All Natures Family in Mourning drest:
Silent and sad, or in soft Sighs complain'd,
Nay Heav'n it self scarce undisturb'd remain'd:
In Hell alone was Joy and curst Delight,
Our Happiness their Woe, our Day their Night:
Scarce such wild general Revels there were known,
When their black Prince did the first Man dethrone,
And almost made a second World their own:
The Pandæmonium fills, the Iron Gate
Is throng'd with many a Sooty Potentate:
Blasphemous Moloch, Satan, Belial, Baal,
And lustful Asmodai, part go, part crawl
On long Serpentine Folds, as erst they fell;
Now drest in all the ugly Forms of Hell:
High in the midst, dire Lucifer ascends
His glowing Throne, a frightful Guard of Fiends
Flock round, the boldest Spirits who with him fell,
And make a Pomp worthy the Prince of Hell:
Some Signs of what he was he still retain'd,
A few weak Rays of gloomy Light remain'd;
Which a faint glimm'ring sort of Twylight made,
I'th' ugly Horror of th' infernal Shade:
His Pow'r not less, tho' by high Heav'n confin'd,
And strong eternal Chains the Rebel bind;
Were he let loose, and no new Thunder hurl'd,
He'd quickly into Atoms crush the World;
As now he is, his haughty Eyes express
The highest Ill, Majestick Wickedness;
Great without Good, as Earthly Tyrants are,
Who Hells black Brand, not Heav'ns bright Image wear;
Most Servile, yet Imperious, Proud, yet Base,
A wicked Joy glares thro' his dusky Face;
Transports he do's amidst his Torments feel,
And shows some mighty mischiefs on the Wheel:
“Thus the French Lucifer, his dear Allie,
“Who still maintains his War against the Sky,
“Thus great appears, in Blood and Murders crown'd;
“As many black Destroyers wait around
“His Pestilential Throne, for Orders wait,
“To scatter Mischief and unerring Fate.
Thus he, thus Hells proud King in Flames array'd,
Who having all his own sad World survey'd,
He thus began.—
Dominions, Thrones, and Pow'rs!
Possessors once of half Heav'ns Crystal Tow'rs,
Which had Fate smil'd, long since had all been ours:
And Fate, not Valour crush'd us, for we're still
Unconquer'd in our own Almighty Will;
What since against its Tyranny we've done,
You know it, and we need not Blush to own;
How we that sordid Piece of dirty Clay,
Whom our more high-born Minds disdain'd t'obey;
For whom the beauteous World above was made,
A Heav'n to our uncomfortable Shade,
Have, by an easie Stratagem, betray'd:
Did our hard Foe's wise VVorkmanship disgrace,
And in one Moment Murder'd all their Race:
'Tis true they Mercy found, tho' we had none,
Who scorn like Man, to kneel and lick his Throne;
No—Since so bravely once we took the Field,
Now, for another Heav'n we wou'd not yield;
Who, more than half his World e'er since possest,
He the poor Jews, and we had all the rest;
More Priests, more Oracles; nay even there,
In his lov'd Land, ours was the largest share;
To us his own proud Kings for Counsel come,
And Endor speaks when sacred Shilo's dumb.
'Tis true, his dreaming Prophets did foretel,
In many a mystick Type and Oracle,
The ruines of the World agen shou'd rise,
Th' eternal Word descending from the Sky's
In mortal Form—Ours was too mean and base;
A Curse on him and all that sordid Race!
To drive us from our Conquer'd Kingdoms, where
We sally out, and tast the lightsom Air,
From these sad Realms; nay tho' we cannot fear
A further Blow, pursue and chain us here:
Revolving deep, I guest that Age was near;
And when the late great Hebrew Prophet came,
Whose Birth, whose Life, whose Miracles and Fame
Have fill'd the World, from whom our Legions fled
At his dread Word, his Word which rais'd the Dead;
Chas'd every stubborn Pain, and strong Disease,
Rebuk'd the Winds, and still'd the raging Seas;
When he did thus to th' wond'ring World appear,
I for our State almost began to fear;
To fear our Empire now was doom'd to fall;
Him Saviour, him the Jews Messiah call,
And wou'd have Crown'd their King—Him first I try'd,
You know th' Event, with all the Baits of Pride;
All that the Earth, of Wealth or Pleasure, yields,
Rich Afric's Sands, or Europe's fertile Fields;
Luxurious Asia's tempting Charms were shown,
And all the hidden Sweets of Worlds unknown:
Whatever Nature made of Fair and Good;
But all in vain, Impregnable he stood:
Not so his Friend, whom Fear or Gold o'erpow'rs
At first Assault—(Th' High Priest before was ours)
The Wretch who late came here, like those above;
We Traytors hate, tho' we the Treason love—
How e'er at length we're safe, our Fear is o'er;
The mighty Prince will drive us now no more!
I saw the Heir of Heav'n expos'd on high,
The Cross his Throne, I saw th' Immortal Die;
For such his Flatt'rers call'd him—Now they run
To shelt'ring Shades, and flie, like us, the Sun;
Tho' little need—He fled himself from them
And angry Heav'n on our Jerusalem
Look'd Frowning down; e'en let it now Frown on,
What's past is Fate, the mighty Work is done;
Our Conqu'rer now may mourn his Conquer'd Son:
On all the tott'ring World may Vengeance take,
At which we'll smile, but can't what's past unmake;
That only is beyond his boasted Pow'r,
Too feeble to recall one fleeting Hour:
Losers may speak—Let the Creation low'r;
Let Thunder rend the Poles, the Center shake,
And sink us deeper in our dreadful Lake;
Yet still we'll Revel here; let Envy stay
Her eating Cares, and know no Grief to day!
E'en She shall smile, her greatest Foe is Dead;
Let bashful Error raise her Hydra-head,
She and my own dear Discord, lately fled
From the great Prophet's Words and Heav'nly Air!
Let 'em with all their snakey Train prepare
For Earth agen, and our new Conquests tell
To every holy Fane and Oracle;
To all the Dæmons that in Æther rove,
From Delphos sacred Rock to wise Dodona's Grove.
Tell 'em—But there his Speech abruptly ends;
Confus'd, he from his Iron Throne descends:
For wide away thro' his own darksom Cell,
He saw strange Light, he saw an Heav'n in Hell;
The Walls, the Gates are down, and Death and Sin,
Thro' the new horrid Breach, came tumbling in;
Their Conqu'ror after who the Blow had given;
'Twas he himself, th' Illustrious Heir of Heav'n,
Iesus the God—
'Twas he—A Guard of warlike Angels stands
Around with kindled Thunders in their Hands:
Tho' more his Sight the Rebels did surprize,
He wears far fiercer Thunders in his Eyes:
Too well his Eyes, too well his Arm they knew,
They oft before had seen and felt 'em too:
First did their trembling King the Firm forsake,
And headlong he plunges in the broad Lake;
Innumerable Legions after run,
New Hells they seek, the Lamb's fierce Wrath to shun;
At once they fall, and from the Rivage steep,
Strike thro' the Bosom of th' unbounded Deep;
I'th' rolling liquid Flame wide Circles make,
Soft murmurs the black boyling Brimstone Lake.
So when from the fair Banks of Silver Poe,
Far off, a Flight of trembling Mallards know,
The Royal Eagle their unequal Foe;
Darting like his own Thunder thro' the Air,
They, carri'd on the swifter Wings of Fear,
Strike headlong thro' the Stream, and disappear.
All Natures Family in Mourning drest:
Silent and sad, or in soft Sighs complain'd,
Nay Heav'n it self scarce undisturb'd remain'd:
In Hell alone was Joy and curst Delight,
Our Happiness their Woe, our Day their Night:
Scarce such wild general Revels there were known,
When their black Prince did the first Man dethrone,
And almost made a second World their own:
The Pandæmonium fills, the Iron Gate
Is throng'd with many a Sooty Potentate:
Blasphemous Moloch, Satan, Belial, Baal,
And lustful Asmodai, part go, part crawl
On long Serpentine Folds, as erst they fell;
Now drest in all the ugly Forms of Hell:
High in the midst, dire Lucifer ascends
His glowing Throne, a frightful Guard of Fiends
Flock round, the boldest Spirits who with him fell,
326
Some Signs of what he was he still retain'd,
A few weak Rays of gloomy Light remain'd;
Which a faint glimm'ring sort of Twylight made,
I'th' ugly Horror of th' infernal Shade:
His Pow'r not less, tho' by high Heav'n confin'd,
And strong eternal Chains the Rebel bind;
Were he let loose, and no new Thunder hurl'd,
He'd quickly into Atoms crush the World;
As now he is, his haughty Eyes express
The highest Ill, Majestick Wickedness;
Great without Good, as Earthly Tyrants are,
Who Hells black Brand, not Heav'ns bright Image wear;
Most Servile, yet Imperious, Proud, yet Base,
A wicked Joy glares thro' his dusky Face;
Transports he do's amidst his Torments feel,
And shows some mighty mischiefs on the Wheel:
“Thus the French Lucifer, his dear Allie,
“Who still maintains his War against the Sky,
“Thus great appears, in Blood and Murders crown'd;
“As many black Destroyers wait around
“His Pestilential Throne, for Orders wait,
“To scatter Mischief and unerring Fate.
Thus he, thus Hells proud King in Flames array'd,
Who having all his own sad World survey'd,
He thus began.—
Dominions, Thrones, and Pow'rs!
Possessors once of half Heav'ns Crystal Tow'rs,
Which had Fate smil'd, long since had all been ours:
And Fate, not Valour crush'd us, for we're still
Unconquer'd in our own Almighty Will;
What since against its Tyranny we've done,
You know it, and we need not Blush to own;
How we that sordid Piece of dirty Clay,
Whom our more high-born Minds disdain'd t'obey;
For whom the beauteous World above was made,
A Heav'n to our uncomfortable Shade,
Have, by an easie Stratagem, betray'd:
Did our hard Foe's wise VVorkmanship disgrace,
And in one Moment Murder'd all their Race:
327
Who scorn like Man, to kneel and lick his Throne;
No—Since so bravely once we took the Field,
Now, for another Heav'n we wou'd not yield;
Who, more than half his World e'er since possest,
He the poor Jews, and we had all the rest;
More Priests, more Oracles; nay even there,
In his lov'd Land, ours was the largest share;
To us his own proud Kings for Counsel come,
And Endor speaks when sacred Shilo's dumb.
'Tis true, his dreaming Prophets did foretel,
In many a mystick Type and Oracle,
The ruines of the World agen shou'd rise,
Th' eternal Word descending from the Sky's
In mortal Form—Ours was too mean and base;
A Curse on him and all that sordid Race!
To drive us from our Conquer'd Kingdoms, where
We sally out, and tast the lightsom Air,
From these sad Realms; nay tho' we cannot fear
A further Blow, pursue and chain us here:
Revolving deep, I guest that Age was near;
And when the late great Hebrew Prophet came,
Whose Birth, whose Life, whose Miracles and Fame
Have fill'd the World, from whom our Legions fled
At his dread Word, his Word which rais'd the Dead;
Chas'd every stubborn Pain, and strong Disease,
Rebuk'd the Winds, and still'd the raging Seas;
When he did thus to th' wond'ring World appear,
I for our State almost began to fear;
To fear our Empire now was doom'd to fall;
Him Saviour, him the Jews Messiah call,
And wou'd have Crown'd their King—Him first I try'd,
You know th' Event, with all the Baits of Pride;
All that the Earth, of Wealth or Pleasure, yields,
Rich Afric's Sands, or Europe's fertile Fields;
Luxurious Asia's tempting Charms were shown,
And all the hidden Sweets of Worlds unknown:
Whatever Nature made of Fair and Good;
But all in vain, Impregnable he stood:
Not so his Friend, whom Fear or Gold o'erpow'rs
328
The Wretch who late came here, like those above;
We Traytors hate, tho' we the Treason love—
How e'er at length we're safe, our Fear is o'er;
The mighty Prince will drive us now no more!
I saw the Heir of Heav'n expos'd on high,
The Cross his Throne, I saw th' Immortal Die;
For such his Flatt'rers call'd him—Now they run
To shelt'ring Shades, and flie, like us, the Sun;
Tho' little need—He fled himself from them
And angry Heav'n on our Jerusalem
Look'd Frowning down; e'en let it now Frown on,
What's past is Fate, the mighty Work is done;
Our Conqu'rer now may mourn his Conquer'd Son:
On all the tott'ring World may Vengeance take,
At which we'll smile, but can't what's past unmake;
That only is beyond his boasted Pow'r,
Too feeble to recall one fleeting Hour:
Losers may speak—Let the Creation low'r;
Let Thunder rend the Poles, the Center shake,
And sink us deeper in our dreadful Lake;
Yet still we'll Revel here; let Envy stay
Her eating Cares, and know no Grief to day!
E'en She shall smile, her greatest Foe is Dead;
Let bashful Error raise her Hydra-head,
She and my own dear Discord, lately fled
From the great Prophet's Words and Heav'nly Air!
Let 'em with all their snakey Train prepare
For Earth agen, and our new Conquests tell
To every holy Fane and Oracle;
To all the Dæmons that in Æther rove,
From Delphos sacred Rock to wise Dodona's Grove.
Tell 'em—But there his Speech abruptly ends;
Confus'd, he from his Iron Throne descends:
For wide away thro' his own darksom Cell,
He saw strange Light, he saw an Heav'n in Hell;
The Walls, the Gates are down, and Death and Sin,
Thro' the new horrid Breach, came tumbling in;
Their Conqu'ror after who the Blow had given;
'Twas he himself, th' Illustrious Heir of Heav'n,
329
'Twas he—A Guard of warlike Angels stands
Around with kindled Thunders in their Hands:
Tho' more his Sight the Rebels did surprize,
He wears far fiercer Thunders in his Eyes:
Too well his Eyes, too well his Arm they knew,
They oft before had seen and felt 'em too:
First did their trembling King the Firm forsake,
And headlong he plunges in the broad Lake;
Innumerable Legions after run,
New Hells they seek, the Lamb's fierce Wrath to shun;
At once they fall, and from the Rivage steep,
Strike thro' the Bosom of th' unbounded Deep;
I'th' rolling liquid Flame wide Circles make,
Soft murmurs the black boyling Brimstone Lake.
So when from the fair Banks of Silver Poe,
Far off, a Flight of trembling Mallards know,
The Royal Eagle their unequal Foe;
Darting like his own Thunder thro' the Air,
They, carri'd on the swifter Wings of Fear,
Strike headlong thro' the Stream, and disappear.
The Fiends on Earth too felt the fatal Blow,
And quickly sympathize with those below;
And, as of old from Heav'ns high Wall they fall,
Now drop from each forsaken Oracle;
Thick as Autumnal Leaves the Valleys spread,
E'er shiv'ring Winter shows its palsy'd Head:
Lamenting Sounds are heard, they take their flight,
Wide-wandring in their own Eternal Night:
Thus does at last the Woman's Off-spring tread,
Triumphant, o'er the hissing Serpent's Head:
And thus Captivity he Captive led.
The guilty trembling Jaylors puts to flight,
Exposing their dark Cells to hated Light;
From the old greedy Lion wrests his Prey,
Which long condemn'd in those sad Mansions lay;
And with him back reduc'd to cheerful Day.
How welcom their Deliverer appears,
To the old Pris'ners of Two thousand Years,
Who in the Universal Deluge fell,
Thro' gaping Earth's wide Ruins swept to Hell:
The Graves first Fruits, a joyful Troop they rise,
Regain the now almost forgotten Skies,
And wait their Saviour into Paradise.
And quickly sympathize with those below;
And, as of old from Heav'ns high Wall they fall,
Now drop from each forsaken Oracle;
Thick as Autumnal Leaves the Valleys spread,
E'er shiv'ring Winter shows its palsy'd Head:
Lamenting Sounds are heard, they take their flight,
Wide-wandring in their own Eternal Night:
Thus does at last the Woman's Off-spring tread,
Triumphant, o'er the hissing Serpent's Head:
And thus Captivity he Captive led.
The guilty trembling Jaylors puts to flight,
Exposing their dark Cells to hated Light;
From the old greedy Lion wrests his Prey,
Which long condemn'd in those sad Mansions lay;
And with him back reduc'd to cheerful Day.
How welcom their Deliverer appears,
To the old Pris'ners of Two thousand Years,
Who in the Universal Deluge fell,
330
The Graves first Fruits, a joyful Troop they rise,
Regain the now almost forgotten Skies,
And wait their Saviour into Paradise.
With him agen, Sweet Muse, to Earth return,
Where his sad Death his Friends, mistaken, mourn;
His Death who cannot die, or if before,
He his Clay-house forsook, can die no more:
His Body now Spiritual and refin'd,
A fit Companion for so pure a Mind;
Active and agile, prest and ready 't stands,
As swift as Thought t'obey the Soul's commands;
Like that it moves, and in a moment flies,
From East to West, from Earth to Paradise.
This knew not they, who yet lamenting were,
And lost in stupid Sorrow and Despair;
Forgot the Promise of his sure return,
And, without either Faith or Hope they mourn;
Sad was the Feast to them, no cheerful Ray
It wore, as sad the Night that clos'd the Day:
With kinder Omens the third Morn appears,
The happy Morning doom'd to dry their Tears.
“Kind Phosphor bring the Day, why this Delay,
“Jesus is rising—Phosphor bring the Day!
Hast his dull Steeds, for if he longer stay,
Another Sun will rise, a Sun so bright,
The World no more will need his weaker Light.
Earlier than he fair Magdalena rose,
And to the Tomb with Spice and Ungeuents goes,
Him to embalm who no Corruption knew;
The same officious kindness thither drew
Her weeping Friends, who tho' their Fear was strong,
Their Love was more; sad Tales the Way prolong,
As cheerful shorten, tho' at last they come
To th' steep Ascent, the Garden and the Tomb,
Not far remov'd before, but a new Fear,
And crowding anxious Thoughts surpriz'd 'em here:
Not yet secure the doubtful Jews they heard,
As Guilt is still suspicious, plac'd a Guard
Around the Sepulchre, a Seal secur'd
The pond'rous Stone their mighty Foe immur'd;
Nor think yet safe or deep enough he lies,
For they too heard, he the third Day wou'd rise,
Whose pow'rful Word had others rais'd; nor yet,
Can they the wond'rous Lazarus forget,
Or Naim's twice-born Youth.—Their Fear not vain.
Nor longer Hades cou'd his Soul retain:
A Conqu'ror thence he rose, where late he fell,
And drags in Triumph after Death and Hell:
He did, he came—All Nature must obey
Its Sovereign Lord; he will'd the Stone away:
Tho' all around officious Angels stay'd,
For Pomp, not Service there, nor needs their Aid.
Jesus is risen, Triumphal Anthems sing:
Thus from dead Winter mounts the sprightly Spring;
Thus does the Sun from Night's black Shades return,
And thus the single Bird wings from th' Arabian Urn:
Jesus is risen; he'll the World restore,
Awake ye Dead! dull Sinners sleep no more!
In Pleasures soft Enchantments slumb'ring deep,
Or Sleep no more, or else for ever sleep!
But tho' himself he's gone, his tender care
Still left two bright Attendant Angels there;
Those early pious Pilgrims to console,
Who with mistaken Tears his Loss condole:
Their trembling Feet no sooner had they set
I'th' Garden Walks, but they new Wonders met;
The Earth too trembled where so late he lay,
And Nature's self-seem'd more affraid than they:
And lo! the beauteous bashful Clouds divide,
And rev'rently stand off on either side;
As at th' approach of Earthly Majesty,
A living Lane is made till all the Pomp go by:
And lo! a heavenly Youth does downward move,
The loveliest Form in all the Realms of Love;
From the Caves mouth he rolls the mighty Stone,
From whence before our conq'ring Lord was gone,
He rolls it, and triumphant sits thereon:
The Roman Guards, nor were they us'd to fear,
Their Stations held, till the bright Form was near;
Fain, impious! wou'd resistance make, and fain
They would have drawn their Swords, but strove in vain
Against th' unequal Foe, in vain they rear
Their useless Piles, suspended in the Air;
Their Hands, their Souls disarm'd they quickly found,
They fall, their Armour clanks against the Ground:
To the soft Sex more calmly did appear,
Dress'd in a milder and less warlike Air,
The heav'nly Youth—You have no need to fear:
We in your Cause engage with all our Pow'rs;
I know you seek your suffring Lord and ours;
Too late; alas! You seek him here, he said,
Him who for ever lives, among the Dead.
Dry your vain Tears, nor longer him deplore,
Your mighty Saviour lives to die no more!
'Tis the third Day, he promis'd then to rise,
Nor cou'd deceive—Look in and trust your Eyes!
See where he by your selves was laid, see there
The Linnen, and the empty Sepulchre:
Be you the first Apostles, quickly go,
And to th' Eleven the happy Tidings show.
Where his sad Death his Friends, mistaken, mourn;
His Death who cannot die, or if before,
He his Clay-house forsook, can die no more:
His Body now Spiritual and refin'd,
A fit Companion for so pure a Mind;
Active and agile, prest and ready 't stands,
As swift as Thought t'obey the Soul's commands;
Like that it moves, and in a moment flies,
From East to West, from Earth to Paradise.
This knew not they, who yet lamenting were,
And lost in stupid Sorrow and Despair;
Forgot the Promise of his sure return,
And, without either Faith or Hope they mourn;
Sad was the Feast to them, no cheerful Ray
It wore, as sad the Night that clos'd the Day:
With kinder Omens the third Morn appears,
The happy Morning doom'd to dry their Tears.
“Kind Phosphor bring the Day, why this Delay,
“Jesus is rising—Phosphor bring the Day!
Hast his dull Steeds, for if he longer stay,
Another Sun will rise, a Sun so bright,
The World no more will need his weaker Light.
Earlier than he fair Magdalena rose,
And to the Tomb with Spice and Ungeuents goes,
Him to embalm who no Corruption knew;
The same officious kindness thither drew
Her weeping Friends, who tho' their Fear was strong,
Their Love was more; sad Tales the Way prolong,
As cheerful shorten, tho' at last they come
To th' steep Ascent, the Garden and the Tomb,
Not far remov'd before, but a new Fear,
And crowding anxious Thoughts surpriz'd 'em here:
Not yet secure the doubtful Jews they heard,
As Guilt is still suspicious, plac'd a Guard
Around the Sepulchre, a Seal secur'd
331
Nor think yet safe or deep enough he lies,
For they too heard, he the third Day wou'd rise,
Whose pow'rful Word had others rais'd; nor yet,
Can they the wond'rous Lazarus forget,
Or Naim's twice-born Youth.—Their Fear not vain.
Nor longer Hades cou'd his Soul retain:
A Conqu'ror thence he rose, where late he fell,
And drags in Triumph after Death and Hell:
He did, he came—All Nature must obey
Its Sovereign Lord; he will'd the Stone away:
Tho' all around officious Angels stay'd,
For Pomp, not Service there, nor needs their Aid.
Jesus is risen, Triumphal Anthems sing:
Thus from dead Winter mounts the sprightly Spring;
Thus does the Sun from Night's black Shades return,
And thus the single Bird wings from th' Arabian Urn:
Jesus is risen; he'll the World restore,
Awake ye Dead! dull Sinners sleep no more!
In Pleasures soft Enchantments slumb'ring deep,
Or Sleep no more, or else for ever sleep!
But tho' himself he's gone, his tender care
Still left two bright Attendant Angels there;
Those early pious Pilgrims to console,
Who with mistaken Tears his Loss condole:
Their trembling Feet no sooner had they set
I'th' Garden Walks, but they new Wonders met;
The Earth too trembled where so late he lay,
And Nature's self-seem'd more affraid than they:
And lo! the beauteous bashful Clouds divide,
And rev'rently stand off on either side;
As at th' approach of Earthly Majesty,
A living Lane is made till all the Pomp go by:
And lo! a heavenly Youth does downward move,
The loveliest Form in all the Realms of Love;
From the Caves mouth he rolls the mighty Stone,
From whence before our conq'ring Lord was gone,
He rolls it, and triumphant sits thereon:
The Roman Guards, nor were they us'd to fear,
Their Stations held, till the bright Form was near;
332
They would have drawn their Swords, but strove in vain
Against th' unequal Foe, in vain they rear
Their useless Piles, suspended in the Air;
Their Hands, their Souls disarm'd they quickly found,
They fall, their Armour clanks against the Ground:
To the soft Sex more calmly did appear,
Dress'd in a milder and less warlike Air,
The heav'nly Youth—You have no need to fear:
We in your Cause engage with all our Pow'rs;
I know you seek your suffring Lord and ours;
Too late; alas! You seek him here, he said,
Him who for ever lives, among the Dead.
Dry your vain Tears, nor longer him deplore,
Your mighty Saviour lives to die no more!
'Tis the third Day, he promis'd then to rise,
Nor cou'd deceive—Look in and trust your Eyes!
See where he by your selves was laid, see there
The Linnen, and the empty Sepulchre:
Be you the first Apostles, quickly go,
And to th' Eleven the happy Tidings show.
With Joy and mingled Fear they hast away,
All but fair Magdalen, resolv'd to stay,
If possible her much lov'd Lord to find,
And with his presence ease her anxious Mind;
Her Mind, which struggling Thoughts like Earthquakes move,
Tortur'd at once with Hope, and Doubt, and Love;
An Angel's witness she cou'd scarce receive,
'Twas too good News she thought, nor dar'd believe:
Musing she fix'd her Eyes upon the Ground,
Till wak'd by' sudden Noise, and turning round,
She saw, or thought she saw, the Gard'ner near,
And thus abrupt with many a Sigh and Tear
Accosts him—Sir, if you've born him hence,
The poor Remains of murder'd Innocence;
My last just Tears and Sighs are yet unpaid,
O tell, of Pity tell me where he's laid;
Where I—The God himself no more cou'd bear,
'Twas He himself; bright shone th' enlighten'd Air
Around his Sacred Head, the God she knew,
And at his Feet her self in Transports threw;
The crowding Joy's too vast to be exprest:
Master—She crys, and spoke in Looks the rest:
He mild repels her with his radiant Eyes,
And adds—There's yet no time for Extasies.
To his dear Brethren, still he held 'em dear,
Tho' poorly sunk in Unbelief and Fear;
He bids her strait the happy Tidings bear,
Then glides unseen away in trackless Air.
She came and told, th' Apostles ne'er the more
Believe, incredulous as she before;
Day-dreams, by sickly female Fancies made
They thought it all, or some delusive Shade;
And yet alarm'd with the repeated News,
Their Wonder pay where they their Faith refuse.
The lov'd Disciple did attention lend,
The most concern'd as he was most his Friend.
Cephas with him, who rais'd from his late fall,
In Faith and Courage now outstrips them all:
Thus broken Bones, by skilful Artists drest
And set agen, grow stronger than the rest:
This his warm Zeal, and that his Friendship bear
In a few Moments to the Sepulchre;
Entring surpriz'd, they nothing there cou'd find,
Nothing, besides the Linnen left behind;
The Spice with which the Jews embalm their dead,
And blood-stain'd Napkin from his Sacred Head
In decent Folds laid by, asunder plac'd,
A work confessing, neither Fear nor Hast:
They saw believing, now no longer mourn
His Death, but joyful to the rest return;
Return with speed, but gain no credit there,
For all was fill'd with Terror and Despair;
Black sullen Grief hung o'er 'em, all was Night,
Without one smiling Gleam of Hope or Light:
Their Sun was set, can they too much deplore?
Was set in Death's dark Shades to rise no more.
The Doors were shut, lest the malicious Jews,
Shou'd them, as late they did their Lord, accuse
Of Crimes unknown, all still and silent were,
No Sounds but Sighs, which gently mov'd the Air;
No Light, but one weak Tapers glimm'ring Ray,
And that too hid, lest that shou'd them betray.
All but fair Magdalen, resolv'd to stay,
If possible her much lov'd Lord to find,
And with his presence ease her anxious Mind;
Her Mind, which struggling Thoughts like Earthquakes move,
Tortur'd at once with Hope, and Doubt, and Love;
An Angel's witness she cou'd scarce receive,
'Twas too good News she thought, nor dar'd believe:
Musing she fix'd her Eyes upon the Ground,
Till wak'd by' sudden Noise, and turning round,
She saw, or thought she saw, the Gard'ner near,
And thus abrupt with many a Sigh and Tear
Accosts him—Sir, if you've born him hence,
The poor Remains of murder'd Innocence;
My last just Tears and Sighs are yet unpaid,
O tell, of Pity tell me where he's laid;
Where I—The God himself no more cou'd bear,
'Twas He himself; bright shone th' enlighten'd Air
Around his Sacred Head, the God she knew,
333
The crowding Joy's too vast to be exprest:
Master—She crys, and spoke in Looks the rest:
He mild repels her with his radiant Eyes,
And adds—There's yet no time for Extasies.
To his dear Brethren, still he held 'em dear,
Tho' poorly sunk in Unbelief and Fear;
He bids her strait the happy Tidings bear,
Then glides unseen away in trackless Air.
She came and told, th' Apostles ne'er the more
Believe, incredulous as she before;
Day-dreams, by sickly female Fancies made
They thought it all, or some delusive Shade;
And yet alarm'd with the repeated News,
Their Wonder pay where they their Faith refuse.
The lov'd Disciple did attention lend,
The most concern'd as he was most his Friend.
Cephas with him, who rais'd from his late fall,
In Faith and Courage now outstrips them all:
Thus broken Bones, by skilful Artists drest
And set agen, grow stronger than the rest:
This his warm Zeal, and that his Friendship bear
In a few Moments to the Sepulchre;
Entring surpriz'd, they nothing there cou'd find,
Nothing, besides the Linnen left behind;
The Spice with which the Jews embalm their dead,
And blood-stain'd Napkin from his Sacred Head
In decent Folds laid by, asunder plac'd,
A work confessing, neither Fear nor Hast:
They saw believing, now no longer mourn
His Death, but joyful to the rest return;
Return with speed, but gain no credit there,
For all was fill'd with Terror and Despair;
Black sullen Grief hung o'er 'em, all was Night,
Without one smiling Gleam of Hope or Light:
Their Sun was set, can they too much deplore?
Was set in Death's dark Shades to rise no more.
The Doors were shut, lest the malicious Jews,
Shou'd them, as late they did their Lord, accuse
Of Crimes unknown, all still and silent were,
334
No Light, but one weak Tapers glimm'ring Ray,
And that too hid, lest that shou'd them betray.
When Loe! the God himself, (mirac'lous Sight!)
The God himself, in his own Lambent light
Adorn'd, 'ith' midst appears, his Shape, his Dress,
His more than mortal Meen, the God confess;
Divinely did he look, divinely move,
His Voice divine, 'twas only Peace and Love;
His wond'rous Voice, which Light and Life convey'd,
Like that first Word by which the World he made:
Thorough their secret Soul 'twas swiftly sent,
And struck new Beams of Joy where e'er it went;
Then mildly chides their Unbelief and Fear,
Such kind Reproofs who would not gladly hear?
Shows 'em those glorious Wounds, the Nails and Spear
Had lately made, and further to compleat
Their Faith, of their poor Fare he deigns to eat:
Thus banish'd all their Sorrows, all their Tears;
Once more salutes with Peace, and disappears.
Thomas as chanc'd was absent, whether Fear,
Or only Bus'ness, 'twas detain'd him there;
How great his Loss the while, (“scarce less they lose
“Who kindly bid, ungratefully refuse
“To meet their Saviour at the Churches Feast)
In vain he is assur'd by all the rest
Of the glad Tidings; him they entertain,
With the late Visions wond'rous Scenes in vain,
Him doubting Cephas chides, and does declare,
With Warmth and Zeal, what all cou'd witness there:
No more, he cries, he did, he did appear,
I saw him, with these Eyes I saw him here,
Here in this Place, where if my Sense is true,
He as distinctly spake, as I to you:
We saw, we heard him all—You must forgive,
If what's incredible I can't believe,
Says the weak Saint; but whilst he thus replies,
In rushes Cleophas, a glad surprize
Which seal'd his Lips, spoke loudly in his Eyes:
His Feet awhile his Breath and Voice outran,
When both recover'd were, he thus began.
The God himself, in his own Lambent light
Adorn'd, 'ith' midst appears, his Shape, his Dress,
His more than mortal Meen, the God confess;
Divinely did he look, divinely move,
His Voice divine, 'twas only Peace and Love;
His wond'rous Voice, which Light and Life convey'd,
Like that first Word by which the World he made:
Thorough their secret Soul 'twas swiftly sent,
And struck new Beams of Joy where e'er it went;
Then mildly chides their Unbelief and Fear,
Such kind Reproofs who would not gladly hear?
Shows 'em those glorious Wounds, the Nails and Spear
Had lately made, and further to compleat
Their Faith, of their poor Fare he deigns to eat:
Thus banish'd all their Sorrows, all their Tears;
Once more salutes with Peace, and disappears.
Thomas as chanc'd was absent, whether Fear,
Or only Bus'ness, 'twas detain'd him there;
How great his Loss the while, (“scarce less they lose
“Who kindly bid, ungratefully refuse
“To meet their Saviour at the Churches Feast)
In vain he is assur'd by all the rest
Of the glad Tidings; him they entertain,
With the late Visions wond'rous Scenes in vain,
Him doubting Cephas chides, and does declare,
With Warmth and Zeal, what all cou'd witness there:
No more, he cries, he did, he did appear,
I saw him, with these Eyes I saw him here,
Here in this Place, where if my Sense is true,
He as distinctly spake, as I to you:
We saw, we heard him all—You must forgive,
If what's incredible I can't believe,
Says the weak Saint; but whilst he thus replies,
In rushes Cleophas, a glad surprize
Which seal'd his Lips, spoke loudly in his Eyes:
His Feet awhile his Breath and Voice outran,
335
He lives, he lives—Grief vanish! Cares away!
Our much lov'd Master lives—This happy Day,
We saw him both—He can confirm the same!
And his Companion shows who with him came;
Who did with Vows the Sacred Truths attest:
And thus, by all desir'd, relates the rest.
Our much lov'd Master lives—This happy Day,
We saw him both—He can confirm the same!
And his Companion shows who with him came;
Who did with Vows the Sacred Truths attest:
And thus, by all desir'd, relates the rest.
As tost 'twixt less'ning Hope and faithless Fear,
And weary grown with those sad Objects here,
Which but reviv'd our loss; we did forsake
This guilty Town, and a short Journey make
To neighb'ring Emmaus—You know it all,
Seated beneath an easie Mountains fall;
When we almost had reach'd the Goal design'd,
Scarce half our little Journey now behind;
To Ba'al-Perazim come we thence descry,
To th' left the House of aged Zachary,
The Baptists happy Sire; no sooner seen,
But new tormenting Thoughts came stealing in:
What attestation this great Prophet gave
Our greater Lord by Jordans Sacred Wave;
How neither cou'd their shining Virtues save:
Both just and good, and Innocent in vain,
By Herod this, and that by Pilate slain.
With various Talk we thus beguil'd th' Ascent,
Meas'ring each step with Tears—As on we went
An unknown Trav'ller join'd us, whom we guest,
Some Proselyte returning from the Feast;
At whose approach in vain we dry'd our Eyes,
Since faster still new stubborn Streams arise;
And weary grown with those sad Objects here,
Which but reviv'd our loss; we did forsake
This guilty Town, and a short Journey make
To neighb'ring Emmaus—You know it all,
Seated beneath an easie Mountains fall;
When we almost had reach'd the Goal design'd,
Scarce half our little Journey now behind;
To Ba'al-Perazim come we thence descry,
To th' left the House of aged Zachary,
The Baptists happy Sire; no sooner seen,
But new tormenting Thoughts came stealing in:
What attestation this great Prophet gave
Our greater Lord by Jordans Sacred Wave;
How neither cou'd their shining Virtues save:
Both just and good, and Innocent in vain,
By Herod this, and that by Pilate slain.
With various Talk we thus beguil'd th' Ascent,
Meas'ring each step with Tears—As on we went
An unknown Trav'ller join'd us, whom we guest,
Some Proselyte returning from the Feast;
At whose approach in vain we dry'd our Eyes,
Since faster still new stubborn Streams arise;
He saw, and thus began—If 'twere not rude,
A Stranger, in your private Thoughts t'intrude;
I'd ask from whence this Tide of Passion flows,
Which does, against your Will it self disclose,
Since Sorrow when divided, weaker grows?
A Stranger, in your private Thoughts t'intrude;
I'd ask from whence this Tide of Passion flows,
Which does, against your Will it self disclose,
Since Sorrow when divided, weaker grows?
Stranger indeed! my Sighing Friend replies,
Who have not heard the Cause, from all our Eyes
Has this just Tribute drawn—And can it be?
Know you not yet our Elders Cruelty,
And our great Master's Fate? such Wonders shown,
To what dark Corner is his Name unknown,
In our Jerusalem? such none before
No Man cou'd e'er perform—We thought him more;
Thought him the wondrous promis'd Prince foretold,
So oft in holy Oracles of old:
The great Messiah he, the Christ of God,
To bruise the Nations with his Iron Rod;
And if not He, sure Israel ne'r will find,
A Prince more just, to nobler Deeds inclin'd;
More mild and good, and merciful and kind.
But Ah! by our false flatt'ring hopes misled,
Too late we're undeceiv'd, and mourn him dead.
Judge if we've Reason!—He'd no longer bear
Our Blasphemies, but thus reprov'd, severe:
Who have not heard the Cause, from all our Eyes
Has this just Tribute drawn—And can it be?
Know you not yet our Elders Cruelty,
And our great Master's Fate? such Wonders shown,
336
In our Jerusalem? such none before
No Man cou'd e'er perform—We thought him more;
Thought him the wondrous promis'd Prince foretold,
So oft in holy Oracles of old:
The great Messiah he, the Christ of God,
To bruise the Nations with his Iron Rod;
And if not He, sure Israel ne'r will find,
A Prince more just, to nobler Deeds inclin'd;
More mild and good, and merciful and kind.
But Ah! by our false flatt'ring hopes misled,
Too late we're undeceiv'd, and mourn him dead.
Judge if we've Reason!—He'd no longer bear
Our Blasphemies, but thus reprov'd, severe:
Mistaken Men! your Minds immerst in Night,
Without one cheerful Beam of heavenly Light!
And was not this by the Divine foresight
Known, and dispos'd for many Ages since;
Was not Messiah still a suff'ring Prince
Describ'd? Did not this Truth the Prophets tell,
In many a mystic Type and Oracle?
That the Eternal Father did ordain,
His Son to suffer first, and then to Reign;
Why else from faithful Abraham's Bosom, why
Was his lov'd only Isaac drawn to die?
Why was he offer'd too on Calvary?
What meant the Paschal Lamb, and wherefore dies
Th' innocent Herd, a daily Sacrifice?
The Brazen Serpent Moses did prepare,
Nail'd to the Pole, and lifted high 'ith' Air;
Which ease to every wounded Wretch did give,
They turn their half-clos'd Eyes, and look and live.
What that? What many a mighty Shadow more,
What all the Wounds the Royal Prophet bore;
What Truths dark folded in the Psalms and Law;
What wond'rous Visions lofty Esay saw,
Th' Evangelizing Prophet, full and clear;
Scarce Prophesies, but Histories you hear,
When he is read; now Jesse's noble Stem,
And then the Prince of Peace's Diadem;
And Purple Royal Robes deciph'ring plain,
Not bought from Tyre, but dy'd in nobler Grain,
His own pure Blood, abus'd, contemn'd, betray'd,
For all Mankind a sinless Victim made;
Thus see him there triumphing! see him come
From Bozra's lofty Rock a bleeding Conqueror home!
Without one cheerful Beam of heavenly Light!
And was not this by the Divine foresight
Known, and dispos'd for many Ages since;
Was not Messiah still a suff'ring Prince
Describ'd? Did not this Truth the Prophets tell,
In many a mystic Type and Oracle?
That the Eternal Father did ordain,
His Son to suffer first, and then to Reign;
Why else from faithful Abraham's Bosom, why
Was his lov'd only Isaac drawn to die?
Why was he offer'd too on Calvary?
What meant the Paschal Lamb, and wherefore dies
Th' innocent Herd, a daily Sacrifice?
The Brazen Serpent Moses did prepare,
Nail'd to the Pole, and lifted high 'ith' Air;
Which ease to every wounded Wretch did give,
They turn their half-clos'd Eyes, and look and live.
What that? What many a mighty Shadow more,
What all the Wounds the Royal Prophet bore;
What Truths dark folded in the Psalms and Law;
What wond'rous Visions lofty Esay saw,
Th' Evangelizing Prophet, full and clear;
Scarce Prophesies, but Histories you hear,
When he is read; now Jesse's noble Stem,
And then the Prince of Peace's Diadem;
337
Not bought from Tyre, but dy'd in nobler Grain,
His own pure Blood, abus'd, contemn'd, betray'd,
For all Mankind a sinless Victim made;
Thus see him there triumphing! see him come
From Bozra's lofty Rock a bleeding Conqueror home!
While thus he spake, Truth's warm and chearful Ray
Glides thro' our ravish'd Souls, our Grief or Way
We now no longer mind, nor stooping Day,
Which e'er it does to th' under-World descend,
Conducts us to our little Journy's end:
He wou'd have further gone, we both intreat,
He'd not disdain our humble Country Seat
That Night to grace, and our poor Fare to eat:
He mildly grants, we enter'd and refresh'd
Our weary Limbs with grateful Food and Rest:
Such Cates as our small Village did afford,
Were spread upon the Hospitable Board;
We seated too, he blest and brake the Bread,
When lo, the envious Cloud o'th' sudden fled,
Discov'ring well-known Glories round his Head:
Jesus! 'twas He—Our lost lamented Lord:
Thrown at his Feet, we trembled and ador'd:
For our officious Kindness he'd not stay,
But glides unseen in secret Shades away.
Glides thro' our ravish'd Souls, our Grief or Way
We now no longer mind, nor stooping Day,
Which e'er it does to th' under-World descend,
Conducts us to our little Journy's end:
He wou'd have further gone, we both intreat,
He'd not disdain our humble Country Seat
That Night to grace, and our poor Fare to eat:
He mildly grants, we enter'd and refresh'd
Our weary Limbs with grateful Food and Rest:
Such Cates as our small Village did afford,
Were spread upon the Hospitable Board;
We seated too, he blest and brake the Bread,
When lo, the envious Cloud o'th' sudden fled,
Discov'ring well-known Glories round his Head:
Jesus! 'twas He—Our lost lamented Lord:
Thrown at his Feet, we trembled and ador'd:
For our officious Kindness he'd not stay,
But glides unseen in secret Shades away.
You happy Souls! who feed on Angels Fare,
No wonder if you meet your Master there:
Let Prodigals and Swine on Husks be fed,
Jesus will still be known in breaking Bread.
No wonder if you meet your Master there:
Let Prodigals and Swine on Husks be fed,
Jesus will still be known in breaking Bread.
But all in vain they these new Wonders tell,
The Didymæan still's an Infidel:
Argues and asks—Why yet he never stay'd,
But always vanish'd like a fleeting Shade?
No, he's resolv'd—Nothing shall him persuade,
But Demonstration evident and clear:
Unless, says he, my self I saw him here;
Saw with these Eyes those Wounds of which he dy'd,
And with these Hands touch'd e'en his Hand and Side;
I still shall think you but your selves deceive
Or me, and neither can nor will believe:
He said,—They wondring, once agen behold
The Room all delug'd with Etherial Gold:
Clear Waves of Glory gild th' illumin'd Air,
A Flood of Lambent Light, and Jesus there:
His Sacred Wounds the Source from whence it flow'd,
Prodigal now of Light, as once of Blood.
All kneel'd, adoring,—Thomas only stands,
Till forth he gently reach'd his wounded Hands,
And shows the Nails rude Prints, which yet abide
In glorious Scars; shows him his mangled Side:
Lets him e'en all his own bold wish receive,
And mildly asks him, if he'll yet believe?
Low at his Feet himself he throws t'adore—
My Lord! My God! nor had he room for more,
He ravish'd, crys,—him gently Jesus rais'd,
And blest, tho' more their nobler Faith he prais'd.
Who to the Churches witness credit give,
Without their Sences grosser Aid believe,
Nor shall that want: he bids 'em all repair
With speed to Galilee, and meet him there.
On Tabor's holy Mount, where once before,
The blest above did their blest Lord adore:
Gives him his Sacred Word agen t'appear,
Strengthen their Faith, and show new Wonders here.
The Didymæan still's an Infidel:
Argues and asks—Why yet he never stay'd,
But always vanish'd like a fleeting Shade?
No, he's resolv'd—Nothing shall him persuade,
But Demonstration evident and clear:
Unless, says he, my self I saw him here;
Saw with these Eyes those Wounds of which he dy'd,
And with these Hands touch'd e'en his Hand and Side;
I still shall think you but your selves deceive
Or me, and neither can nor will believe:
338
The Room all delug'd with Etherial Gold:
Clear Waves of Glory gild th' illumin'd Air,
A Flood of Lambent Light, and Jesus there:
His Sacred Wounds the Source from whence it flow'd,
Prodigal now of Light, as once of Blood.
All kneel'd, adoring,—Thomas only stands,
Till forth he gently reach'd his wounded Hands,
And shows the Nails rude Prints, which yet abide
In glorious Scars; shows him his mangled Side:
Lets him e'en all his own bold wish receive,
And mildly asks him, if he'll yet believe?
Low at his Feet himself he throws t'adore—
My Lord! My God! nor had he room for more,
He ravish'd, crys,—him gently Jesus rais'd,
And blest, tho' more their nobler Faith he prais'd.
Who to the Churches witness credit give,
Without their Sences grosser Aid believe,
Nor shall that want: he bids 'em all repair
With speed to Galilee, and meet him there.
On Tabor's holy Mount, where once before,
The blest above did their blest Lord adore:
Gives him his Sacred Word agen t'appear,
Strengthen their Faith, and show new Wonders here.
In Peace and Joy they from the Feast return
To meet their Lord, whom now no more they mourn,
Nor idly wait, no more by Wonders fed;
With honest Pain they earn their welcom Bread.
As chanc'd upon a dark and silent Night,
Good Peter his Companions did invite
The heedless Fish in Flaxen-Toils to take,
Royal Tiberias! on thy neighb'ring Lake:
They go, to fruitless Pain themselves expose,
Till the next melancholy Morn arose;
Whose Light did on the sounding Shore disclose
A Person of a Stature, Face and Dress
Unknown—He hales, and asks 'em what success
The Night had brought? They Sighing, None reply'd;
Be ruled by me then, Mates, for once, he cry'd,
And try the Right, for that's the luckier Side!
Where, if I not mistake, a Shoal remain,
Which soon will richly recompence your Pain:
His kind Advice they follow strait, and caught,
As once before, a vast, a wond'rous Draught;
Not their united Strength cou'd lift it o'er,
Compell'd to drag their num'rous Prey ashore;
When now their Net with much ado, they'd tow'd,
Their little Bark half sunk beneath the Load,
Nearer the Land; the lov'd Disciple cries
'Tis He, 'tis He—So sharp are Friendships Eyes:
'Tis our lov'd Lord—Th' Alarm good Peter takes,
And cross the Waves a wond'rous Voyage makes;
The liquid Marble solid Footsteps gave,
He runs, nor dips his Feet beneath the Wave.
He first arrives upon the Oozy shore,
And humbly does his well-known Lord adore:
He first, the other Ten not far behind,
Who ready on the Sand a Banquet find;
By some officious Angel there 'twas laid,
To show their Master did not need their Aid;
Stretch'd on the Beach they here themselves refresh,
With Joy they eat, and the kind Giver bless.
To meet their Lord, whom now no more they mourn,
Nor idly wait, no more by Wonders fed;
With honest Pain they earn their welcom Bread.
As chanc'd upon a dark and silent Night,
Good Peter his Companions did invite
The heedless Fish in Flaxen-Toils to take,
Royal Tiberias! on thy neighb'ring Lake:
They go, to fruitless Pain themselves expose,
Till the next melancholy Morn arose;
Whose Light did on the sounding Shore disclose
A Person of a Stature, Face and Dress
Unknown—He hales, and asks 'em what success
The Night had brought? They Sighing, None reply'd;
Be ruled by me then, Mates, for once, he cry'd,
And try the Right, for that's the luckier Side!
339
Which soon will richly recompence your Pain:
His kind Advice they follow strait, and caught,
As once before, a vast, a wond'rous Draught;
Not their united Strength cou'd lift it o'er,
Compell'd to drag their num'rous Prey ashore;
When now their Net with much ado, they'd tow'd,
Their little Bark half sunk beneath the Load,
Nearer the Land; the lov'd Disciple cries
'Tis He, 'tis He—So sharp are Friendships Eyes:
'Tis our lov'd Lord—Th' Alarm good Peter takes,
And cross the Waves a wond'rous Voyage makes;
The liquid Marble solid Footsteps gave,
He runs, nor dips his Feet beneath the Wave.
He first arrives upon the Oozy shore,
And humbly does his well-known Lord adore:
He first, the other Ten not far behind,
Who ready on the Sand a Banquet find;
By some officious Angel there 'twas laid,
To show their Master did not need their Aid;
Stretch'd on the Beach they here themselves refresh,
With Joy they eat, and the kind Giver bless.
And now when their mirac'lous Feast was o'er,
Refresh'd by that, but by their Master more,
They gaz'd, for Fear their Eyes shou'd them deceive,
And Joy wou'd hardly let 'em yet believe.
Chiefly good Cephas, who so oft deny'd
That Lord, for whom we wou'd have oftner dy'd:
Whose honest Zeal so far his Faith outran;
To whom, severely mild, the God began;
The God yet veil'd 'ith' humble Form of Man:
Refresh'd by that, but by their Master more,
They gaz'd, for Fear their Eyes shou'd them deceive,
And Joy wou'd hardly let 'em yet believe.
Chiefly good Cephas, who so oft deny'd
That Lord, for whom we wou'd have oftner dy'd:
Whose honest Zeal so far his Faith outran;
To whom, severely mild, the God began;
The God yet veil'd 'ith' humble Form of Man:
Thou whose warm Zeal cou'd Death's worst shape out-brave,
And without sinking tread the slipp'ry Wave;
Say as thou woud'st thy Heart to Heav'n approve,
If more than these thou dost thy Master love?
To whom he thus—
Nor dare I, who so little Love have shown,
Or question theirs, or once commend my own;
But how I love, let me no Witness be,
For Lord! thou know'st, and I appeal to Thee!
Then Feed my Lambs! our Saviour strait reply'd,
In Pastures green by some still Water's side:
The self-same Question was repeated o'er,
And had the self-same Answer as before;
Nor must these two without a Third suffice,
For thrice he must be try'd, who thrice denies:
Who tortur'd with ingenuous Grief and Pain
Thus to be question'd, thus returns again.
And without sinking tread the slipp'ry Wave;
Say as thou woud'st thy Heart to Heav'n approve,
If more than these thou dost thy Master love?
To whom he thus—
Nor dare I, who so little Love have shown,
Or question theirs, or once commend my own;
But how I love, let me no Witness be,
For Lord! thou know'st, and I appeal to Thee!
340
In Pastures green by some still Water's side:
The self-same Question was repeated o'er,
And had the self-same Answer as before;
Nor must these two without a Third suffice,
For thrice he must be try'd, who thrice denies:
Who tortur'd with ingenuous Grief and Pain
Thus to be question'd, thus returns again.
O why, thou who so well dost all things know,
Must I a Task so cruel undergo?
How much I love, let me no Witness be,
For, Lord, thou know'st, and I appeal to Thee!
Then feed my Lambs! our Saviour strait reply'd,
In Pastures green, by some still Water's side:
Now, while thou may'st, defend the sacred Fold,
For Time apace rolls on, and thou grow'st old:
Some Lustres since thy Youth was firm and strong,
And thou thy self all Vigorous and Young;
Then free as Air, thy self alone coud'st bind,
And Men as soon might track the wand'ring Wind:
But when old Age with palsy'd steps draws near,
And warns thee thou must stay no longer here;
Then the rude Soldier shall with churlish Bands,
Secure thy wither'd Arms and trembling Hands,
And thee unto that fatal Place convey,
Whence struggling Nature fain wou'd shrink away:
I warn thee well, nor unprovided be,
But when I call, prepare to follow me!
He said, nor longer on the Shore wou'd stay,
But to fair Tabor's Mountain leads the way:
There to a num'rous Troop of Friends appears,
Confirms their Faith, and dissipates their Fears:
Instructs in his bless'd Law each wav'ring Mind,
And warns of all the Dangers yet behind;
Assures of constant Aid against their Foes,
Assures once more, e'er he t'his Father goes,
He'll visit them; e'er him high Heav'n receive,
Till the last Day, then take his final Leave.
With Peace dismist, their steps they backward bend,
And at fair Solyma their Lord attend;
For his approach their pious Minds prepare,
With ardent Wishes, holy Hymns and Pray'r:
While this bless'd Work the Infant Church employs,
He comes, and with him all his Train of Joys;
Then, with his little Troop of happy Friends,
Forsakes the Town, the neighb'ring Hill ascends,
The lovely Bethany! for ever leaves
Thee, sweet Gethsemane! from both receives
Still new supplies to fill his humble Train;
Till from the Top they saw the distant Plain,
O'er whose smooth Bosom murm'ring Kidron ran;
When thus the Saviour of the World began.
Must I a Task so cruel undergo?
How much I love, let me no Witness be,
For, Lord, thou know'st, and I appeal to Thee!
Then feed my Lambs! our Saviour strait reply'd,
In Pastures green, by some still Water's side:
Now, while thou may'st, defend the sacred Fold,
For Time apace rolls on, and thou grow'st old:
Some Lustres since thy Youth was firm and strong,
And thou thy self all Vigorous and Young;
Then free as Air, thy self alone coud'st bind,
And Men as soon might track the wand'ring Wind:
But when old Age with palsy'd steps draws near,
And warns thee thou must stay no longer here;
Then the rude Soldier shall with churlish Bands,
Secure thy wither'd Arms and trembling Hands,
And thee unto that fatal Place convey,
Whence struggling Nature fain wou'd shrink away:
I warn thee well, nor unprovided be,
But when I call, prepare to follow me!
He said, nor longer on the Shore wou'd stay,
But to fair Tabor's Mountain leads the way:
There to a num'rous Troop of Friends appears,
Confirms their Faith, and dissipates their Fears:
Instructs in his bless'd Law each wav'ring Mind,
And warns of all the Dangers yet behind;
Assures of constant Aid against their Foes,
Assures once more, e'er he t'his Father goes,
He'll visit them; e'er him high Heav'n receive,
Till the last Day, then take his final Leave.
With Peace dismist, their steps they backward bend,
And at fair Solyma their Lord attend;
341
With ardent Wishes, holy Hymns and Pray'r:
While this bless'd Work the Infant Church employs,
He comes, and with him all his Train of Joys;
Then, with his little Troop of happy Friends,
Forsakes the Town, the neighb'ring Hill ascends,
The lovely Bethany! for ever leaves
Thee, sweet Gethsemane! from both receives
Still new supplies to fill his humble Train;
Till from the Top they saw the distant Plain,
O'er whose smooth Bosom murm'ring Kidron ran;
When thus the Saviour of the World began.
My Father calls, and I must shortly go,—
Farewel, you dear Companions of my Woe!
Me Heav'n must till the last Great Day receive,
Peace is the Legacy I with you leave:
—Be that the Mark of mine! by that alone
My little Flock shall from the World be known:
Galless as Doves, but wise as Serpents too;
As my great Father me, so send I you:
All Pow'r in Heav'n and Earth his Word secures
To his lov'd suff'ring Son—The same be yours:
To Censure those who my soft Yoke refuse,
And both in Earth and Heav'n to bind and loose!
Go then to what e'er distant Corners hurl'd,
Go in my Name and Proselyte the VVorld!
Mine and my Father's Name, for we are One,
And that bless'd Spirit's from him and from the Son
Eternally proceeding; boldly go,
As far as Land is fix'd, or Waters flow;
Till utmost East your Lord their Saviour style,
Till utmost West, “e'en Albion's stubborn Isle;
Where still new VVorlds shall wait you yet conceal'd,
In Times revolving Race to be reveal'd:
Those who your Words believe, and mine obey,
Let Sacred Water wash their Sins away;
Those happy Souls who thus for Heav'n prepare,
Shall, when I come Triumphing, enter there;
While those who Mercy scorn, ah hapless Race!
For whom I dy'd in vain, and purchas'd Grace
From my forgiving Father; those must go,
The choice their own, to endless VVorlds of VVoe:
Nor will I you without Credentials send,
Angels shall guard, and Miracles attend;
Which shall the stubborn VVorld so far surprize,
They must believe, if they'll believe their Eyes:
For when the blessed Paraclete shall fall,
And with high Pow'r from Heav'n inspire you all;
(Nor, if at fam'd Jerusalem you stay
And wait his Pleasure, will he long delay:)
What Signs, what mighty VVonders shall you do?
How much shall you your selves be chang'd from you?
All Tongues, and more than all, at Babel known,
Shall then be yours, familiar as your own:
You shall the Thoughts of many Hearts reveal?
Your Touch, your Word, your very Shade shall heal?
Those Fiends late driv'n from some false Oracle,
Yet here, shall envy those who lower fell,
And from your Words seek shelter e'en in Hell.
Nor only They themselves shall conquer'd find,
But every Ill with which they plague Mankind:
Th' auxiliary Mischiefs they employ,
To make e'en Nature Nature's self destroy:
Blue Poisons harmless thro' your Veins shall flow,
Vipers and Asps innoxious VVorms shall grow;
In Teeth or Sting, no dreadful Venom found,
E'en he whose Eyes shoot Death so proudly crown'd;
Tam'd by your Touch, disarm'd, shall brush the Ground,
Nor of your Safety when I'm gone, despair,
I'll still be with you, for I'm every where:
Be with you to protect, sustain, defend,
Till this frail VVorld, but not my kindness end;
Till each reviving Dust forsakes its Urn,
And in the Clouds you see your Lord return.
Farewel, you dear Companions of my Woe!
Me Heav'n must till the last Great Day receive,
Peace is the Legacy I with you leave:
—Be that the Mark of mine! by that alone
My little Flock shall from the World be known:
Galless as Doves, but wise as Serpents too;
As my great Father me, so send I you:
All Pow'r in Heav'n and Earth his Word secures
To his lov'd suff'ring Son—The same be yours:
To Censure those who my soft Yoke refuse,
And both in Earth and Heav'n to bind and loose!
Go then to what e'er distant Corners hurl'd,
Go in my Name and Proselyte the VVorld!
Mine and my Father's Name, for we are One,
And that bless'd Spirit's from him and from the Son
Eternally proceeding; boldly go,
As far as Land is fix'd, or Waters flow;
Till utmost East your Lord their Saviour style,
Till utmost West, “e'en Albion's stubborn Isle;
Where still new VVorlds shall wait you yet conceal'd,
In Times revolving Race to be reveal'd:
Those who your Words believe, and mine obey,
Let Sacred Water wash their Sins away;
Those happy Souls who thus for Heav'n prepare,
Shall, when I come Triumphing, enter there;
While those who Mercy scorn, ah hapless Race!
For whom I dy'd in vain, and purchas'd Grace
342
The choice their own, to endless VVorlds of VVoe:
Nor will I you without Credentials send,
Angels shall guard, and Miracles attend;
Which shall the stubborn VVorld so far surprize,
They must believe, if they'll believe their Eyes:
For when the blessed Paraclete shall fall,
And with high Pow'r from Heav'n inspire you all;
(Nor, if at fam'd Jerusalem you stay
And wait his Pleasure, will he long delay:)
What Signs, what mighty VVonders shall you do?
How much shall you your selves be chang'd from you?
All Tongues, and more than all, at Babel known,
Shall then be yours, familiar as your own:
You shall the Thoughts of many Hearts reveal?
Your Touch, your Word, your very Shade shall heal?
Those Fiends late driv'n from some false Oracle,
Yet here, shall envy those who lower fell,
And from your Words seek shelter e'en in Hell.
Nor only They themselves shall conquer'd find,
But every Ill with which they plague Mankind:
Th' auxiliary Mischiefs they employ,
To make e'en Nature Nature's self destroy:
Blue Poisons harmless thro' your Veins shall flow,
Vipers and Asps innoxious VVorms shall grow;
In Teeth or Sting, no dreadful Venom found,
E'en he whose Eyes shoot Death so proudly crown'd;
Tam'd by your Touch, disarm'd, shall brush the Ground,
Nor of your Safety when I'm gone, despair,
I'll still be with you, for I'm every where:
Be with you to protect, sustain, defend,
Till this frail VVorld, but not my kindness end;
Till each reviving Dust forsakes its Urn,
And in the Clouds you see your Lord return.
He said, when lo! a trembling Purple Light,
The Olive-bearing Mountains proudest height
Began to gild, and as it farther spread,
Each lofty Cedar bends his leafy Head;
Each humble Palm below too seem'd to fear,
And all confess'd something Divine was near:
Soft Music's heard from a far distant Cloud
Descending slow, still more distinct and loud,
As by Degrees it still approach'd more nigh;
Then warlike Trumpets eccho round the Sky,
Triumphal Notes and Sounds of Victory;
Mixt with the melting Harp, and these among
Was plainly heard some Noble Festal Song:
Alternatively thus they sung and play'd,
The Words a King, the Tune an Angel made.
The Olive-bearing Mountains proudest height
Began to gild, and as it farther spread,
Each lofty Cedar bends his leafy Head;
Each humble Palm below too seem'd to fear,
And all confess'd something Divine was near:
343
Descending slow, still more distinct and loud,
As by Degrees it still approach'd more nigh;
Then warlike Trumpets eccho round the Sky,
Triumphal Notes and Sounds of Victory;
Mixt with the melting Harp, and these among
Was plainly heard some Noble Festal Song:
Alternatively thus they sung and play'd,
The Words a King, the Tune an Angel made.
The Angels below.
Prepare! Prepare you glitt'ring Orbs above!At decent distance roll away!
Let onely purest Ether stay!
Let envious Clouds remove!
All ye bright Guards his Way prepare!
Sweep with your Purple Wings the Air!
The King of Glory's entring there!
The Angels above.
Say you! for surely you must know,Say you who keep perpetual Guard below,
What God, what Hero is't you bring;
What wond'rous King?
The Angels below.
'Tis He who lately Triumph'd o'er the Grave;Who drags the King of Pride along,
With ease the stronger binds the Strong,
And Death and Hell his Slave!
Whom all the heav'nly Warriors sing,
Their Trophies to his Footstool bring;
The Conq'ring God, the wond'rous King!
While thus they Hymning wait, he mounts alone,
Nor needs their Pow'r, he's greater of his own;
All impious Doubts for ever to prevent,
Ascending slow, and stopping as he went;
Till, when he our dull Earth's attraction leaves,
Him there, for State, a radiant Cloud receives:
Swifter than Thought did his bright Chariot move,
And bore him to th' expecting Crowd above:
Innumerable Hosts their Leader wait,
Drawn out before Heav'ns Adamantine Gate;
From East to West their glitt'ring Squadrons shine,
And cross the Gulph compos'd a glorious Line:
He comes—At his approach a Shout is giv'n,
A Shout which shook th' Eternal Walls of Heav'n:
Not all the Pomp of this Triumphal Show,
How much, much more than we poor Mortals know,
Made him forget those Friends he left below;
With Joy and Wonder, rapt he left 'em there,
They kneel, and after gaze in trackless Air:
But e'er the Everlasting Gates divide,
And Him from them, not them from Him deny'd;
In Glory plac'd by his great Father's Side,
One Look he gave, which wonted Love exprest,
And sends two Angels down to tell the rest:
Tell 'em their Lord who did to Heav'n ascend,
Commands they should their fruitless gazing end;
Nor gaze in vain, nor Him as vainly mourn,
Whom in the Clouds they'd see agen return
To judge the trembling World, nor judge alone,
They all th' Assessors on his mighty Throne:
When the last Fire to Atoms shou'd disperse,
This beauteous Poem of the Universe;
Which heav'nly Art far lovelier will restore,
When Death and Time it self shall be no more.
Nor needs their Pow'r, he's greater of his own;
All impious Doubts for ever to prevent,
344
Till, when he our dull Earth's attraction leaves,
Him there, for State, a radiant Cloud receives:
Swifter than Thought did his bright Chariot move,
And bore him to th' expecting Crowd above:
Innumerable Hosts their Leader wait,
Drawn out before Heav'ns Adamantine Gate;
From East to West their glitt'ring Squadrons shine,
And cross the Gulph compos'd a glorious Line:
He comes—At his approach a Shout is giv'n,
A Shout which shook th' Eternal Walls of Heav'n:
Not all the Pomp of this Triumphal Show,
How much, much more than we poor Mortals know,
Made him forget those Friends he left below;
With Joy and Wonder, rapt he left 'em there,
They kneel, and after gaze in trackless Air:
But e'er the Everlasting Gates divide,
And Him from them, not them from Him deny'd;
In Glory plac'd by his great Father's Side,
One Look he gave, which wonted Love exprest,
And sends two Angels down to tell the rest:
Tell 'em their Lord who did to Heav'n ascend,
Commands they should their fruitless gazing end;
Nor gaze in vain, nor Him as vainly mourn,
Whom in the Clouds they'd see agen return
To judge the trembling World, nor judge alone,
They all th' Assessors on his mighty Throne:
When the last Fire to Atoms shou'd disperse,
This beauteous Poem of the Universe;
Which heav'nly Art far lovelier will restore,
When Death and Time it self shall be no more.
THE END.
349
Make hast my Beloved! and be thou like to a Roe or a young Hart upon the Mountains of Spices!
Veni cito, Domine Jesu. Amen.
FINIS.
| The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ | |