King Arthur An Heroick Poem. In Twelve Books. By Richard Blackmore. To which is Annexed, An Index, Explaining the Names of Countrys, Citys, and Rivers, &c |
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| VII. |
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| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
 | King Arthur |  |
She ceas'd. And Clovis paus'd a little space,
While suddain Tears of Joy ran down his Face.
Then spoke the Confessor. Now you appear
Fair as before, and are to me as dear.
Now you regain your Form, and lovely Charms
And as before are welcom to my Arms.
Heav'n will embrace you too, now you return
And your late fall with pure Contrition mourn.
Heav'n's always ready to afford Relief
To pious Sorrow and ingenuous Grief.
When Penitents with self-displeasure burn,
And to themselves, and to their God return.
Th'Almighty mov'd with Pity will not stay,
But will advance to meet them on their way.
Their errors he forgets, revokes their Doom
And leads his rescu'd Sons in Triumph home.
Your humble Sorrow gives even Angels Joy,
Who to protect you will their Care employ.
The way to make your Peace which you demand
Is plain, you must the fiery Trial stand.
You must your God before the World confess,
And publick Shame, for publick Crimes express.
We must without debate, without delay,
Boldly advance where Conscience leads the way.
Obedience only can our Peace secure:
No Mind is easie long, that is not pure.
You must Obey even at your Blood's expence,
You must to Life prefer your Innocence.
Regard the Joy that is before you set,
View but the Prize, and you will ne'er retreat.
You can't too dear Immortal Glory reap,
What e'er you give, the purchase still is cheap.
In Vertues Cause whate'er your Suff'rings are,
Heav'n is oblig'd your Losses to repair.
If you with publick Fortitude will own
Your Saviour's Cause, you win the promis'd Crown.
This Favourite Intercessor can alone
Fit Merit plead th'Almighty to atone.
Only his Blood can purge your guilty Stain,
Without this Aid, your Tears descend in vain.
Would you succeed in Christian Warfare, joyn
Sincere Obedience to Belief Divine.
While suddain Tears of Joy ran down his Face.
Then spoke the Confessor. Now you appear
Fair as before, and are to me as dear.
Now you regain your Form, and lovely Charms
And as before are welcom to my Arms.
Heav'n will embrace you too, now you return
And your late fall with pure Contrition mourn.
Heav'n's always ready to afford Relief
To pious Sorrow and ingenuous Grief.
When Penitents with self-displeasure burn,
And to themselves, and to their God return.
Th'Almighty mov'd with Pity will not stay,
But will advance to meet them on their way.
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And leads his rescu'd Sons in Triumph home.
Your humble Sorrow gives even Angels Joy,
Who to protect you will their Care employ.
The way to make your Peace which you demand
Is plain, you must the fiery Trial stand.
You must your God before the World confess,
And publick Shame, for publick Crimes express.
We must without debate, without delay,
Boldly advance where Conscience leads the way.
Obedience only can our Peace secure:
No Mind is easie long, that is not pure.
You must Obey even at your Blood's expence,
You must to Life prefer your Innocence.
Regard the Joy that is before you set,
View but the Prize, and you will ne'er retreat.
You can't too dear Immortal Glory reap,
What e'er you give, the purchase still is cheap.
In Vertues Cause whate'er your Suff'rings are,
Heav'n is oblig'd your Losses to repair.
If you with publick Fortitude will own
Your Saviour's Cause, you win the promis'd Crown.
This Favourite Intercessor can alone
Fit Merit plead th'Almighty to atone.
Only his Blood can purge your guilty Stain,
Without this Aid, your Tears descend in vain.
Would you succeed in Christian Warfare, joyn
Sincere Obedience to Belief Divine.
| King Arthur | |