Spiritual Songs, or, Songs of Praise to Almighty God Upon several Occasions Together with The Song of Songs Which is Solomons. First Turn'd, then Paraphrased in English Verse. The Second Edition, Corrected, with an Addition of a Sacred Poem on Dives and Lazarus [by John Mason] |
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DIVES his Answer.
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 | Spiritual Songs, or, Songs of Praise to Almighty God Upon several Occasions |  |
3
DIVES his Answer.
What
Dog is this that dares Presume on Me?
Accurst be all such Crawling Toads as He.
Pests of my Gate, Vermin that Creep so Nigh
—I Hate 'em. Let him Rot and die.
Accurst be all such Crawling Toads as He.
Pests of my Gate, Vermin that Creep so Nigh
—I Hate 'em. Let him Rot and die.
In vain the poor Mans thoughts pursu'd his Suit;
The Dogs were humane, but their Lord a Bruit:
They left their Snarling to their Masters Face.
They Ran and Lazarus gently did embrace.
He was the pity'd Patient of those Hounds,
Whose lambent Tongues did cool his burning Wounds.
The Dogs were humane, but their Lord a Bruit:
They left their Snarling to their Masters Face.
They Ran and Lazarus gently did embrace.
He was the pity'd Patient of those Hounds,
Whose lambent Tongues did cool his burning Wounds.
This done, the squalid Vassals of the Times
Scorn'd ragged Virtue, Honour'd purple Crimes.
Things are mis-judged by the purblind Ey,
Which views their Posture, not their tendency.
Till Justice 'wakes to Right its injur'd Lawes,
Which doth not Weigh the Person, but the Cause.
Scorn'd ragged Virtue, Honour'd purple Crimes.
Things are mis-judged by the purblind Ey,
Which views their Posture, not their tendency.
Till Justice 'wakes to Right its injur'd Lawes,
Which doth not Weigh the Person, but the Cause.
Nor Rags, nor Sores, are Clouds that can disguise
A splendid Soul to Heavens Soul-searching Eyes;
Earths Laz'rus was Heavens Dives; Earths disdain
Was a meet Guest for Heaven to entertain.
Now comes the Golden Hour that sets him free
From his Apprenticeship to Misery.
His Corps (the Graves old Neighbour) long Undrest.
At length is slipt into its Bed of Rest.
A Treasure 'tis, tho' Funeral-costs it wants.
The Richest Mineral is the Dust of Saints.
He was his own (most serious) Mourner here.
He mourn'd enough. He needs no hired tear.
A splendid Soul to Heavens Soul-searching Eyes;
Earths Laz'rus was Heavens Dives; Earths disdain
Was a meet Guest for Heaven to entertain.
Now comes the Golden Hour that sets him free
From his Apprenticeship to Misery.
His Corps (the Graves old Neighbour) long Undrest.
At length is slipt into its Bed of Rest.
4
The Richest Mineral is the Dust of Saints.
He was his own (most serious) Mourner here.
He mourn'd enough. He needs no hired tear.
The time is come, that Lazarus must be clad
With such fine Linnen, Dives never had.
The time is come, that Lazarus must be Fed
With Heavens rich juices, and with Angels Bread.
With such fine Linnen, Dives never had.
The time is come, that Lazarus must be Fed
With Heavens rich juices, and with Angels Bread.
There is a Table richly Spread above.
There is an Everlasting Feast of Love,
A Feast which Friends and Friendship doth maintain:
Pale Envy is not there, nor proud disdain.
They all are One; In One they all agree.
One is their all, which makes all one to be.
Here's height of Mirth with Depth of seriousness
Plenty without the Hazard of excess.
Here are full joyes in Hand, full joyes in view.
Here Wine and Appetite are ever new.
Ever begins their Feast and ne're doth end,
Whom growing Loaves and Living Springs attend.
Their Harps are well-strung Hearts, well-tuned Tongues
And Sacred Hallelujahs are their Songs.
Here sit the Saints. Here the Believers Sire
Is Nobly Seated in his rich attire.
Hither the King of Heaven new Guests doth call.
Nor can he come too late, that comes at all.
There is an Everlasting Feast of Love,
A Feast which Friends and Friendship doth maintain:
Pale Envy is not there, nor proud disdain.
They all are One; In One they all agree.
One is their all, which makes all one to be.
Here's height of Mirth with Depth of seriousness
Plenty without the Hazard of excess.
Here are full joyes in Hand, full joyes in view.
Here Wine and Appetite are ever new.
Ever begins their Feast and ne're doth end,
Whom growing Loaves and Living Springs attend.
Their Harps are well-strung Hearts, well-tuned Tongues
And Sacred Hallelujahs are their Songs.
Here sit the Saints. Here the Believers Sire
Is Nobly Seated in his rich attire.
Hither the King of Heaven new Guests doth call.
Nor can he come too late, that comes at all.
The Mighty One who dwells and Rules on High
Angels attend with an obedient Ey.
The Secrets of his Breasts they do not Skill,
But are the trusty Servants of his Will.
Thus charg'd he them. “Bring Lazarus to the Feast,
“And let him take his place next Abrahams Breast.
They heard with reverence, and obey'd their King;
Joy rais'd their Hearts, and nimbly Shook their Wing.
They fled from Heaven, yet Heaven was with them still.
It was their Heaven to do their Masters will.
They stop'd not at the Stars (that pompous show)
Who went to view a Brighter Star below.
The point design'd they well did understand,
Who had old Voyagers been to Canaans Land.
There had they been Lots Guests (who was their Ward)
There had they been Elisha's Flaming Guard.
In that Land chiefly lay their Lords affairs.
They traffiq'd there for Soules (those precious Wares.)
Angels attend with an obedient Ey.
The Secrets of his Breasts they do not Skill,
But are the trusty Servants of his Will.
5
“And let him take his place next Abrahams Breast.
They heard with reverence, and obey'd their King;
Joy rais'd their Hearts, and nimbly Shook their Wing.
They fled from Heaven, yet Heaven was with them still.
It was their Heaven to do their Masters will.
They stop'd not at the Stars (that pompous show)
Who went to view a Brighter Star below.
The point design'd they well did understand,
Who had old Voyagers been to Canaans Land.
There had they been Lots Guests (who was their Ward)
There had they been Elisha's Flaming Guard.
In that Land chiefly lay their Lords affairs.
They traffiq'd there for Soules (those precious Wares.)
Soon came they where Sick Lazarus had his Lare.
They stop'd and waited for their Passenger.
No Visitant found they with him, but the Lord;
No Nurse, but Faith; No Cordial, but the Word.
They heard him praying, “Lord, some mercy Show,
“For I can find no mercy here below.
This said, he Sigh'd and was of Life bereav'd.
He gave his Soul, and they his Soul receiv'd.
With Shouts and Songs triumphant up they went,
And to the Company did him present.
They Shouted all, and joy'd the new-come Guest.
He gently stoups and leans on Abrahams Breast.
They stop'd and waited for their Passenger.
No Visitant found they with him, but the Lord;
No Nurse, but Faith; No Cordial, but the Word.
They heard him praying, “Lord, some mercy Show,
“For I can find no mercy here below.
This said, he Sigh'd and was of Life bereav'd.
He gave his Soul, and they his Soul receiv'd.
With Shouts and Songs triumphant up they went,
And to the Company did him present.
They Shouted all, and joy'd the new-come Guest.
He gently stoups and leans on Abrahams Breast.
Whom Dives curs'd and stately Fooles disdain'd,
How is he Blest! How is he Entertain'd!
Tho' Virtue here on Earth neglected lies,
Yet Heaven will raise it. For 'tis born to rise.
Dives, that Silken Cod, must never dy
Unless his Creatures and false prophets ly.
He's safe, if Death be cast as far behind
His Body, as it is below his Mind,
He's alwayes young; He learns it from his Glass,
Which smoothes his furrow'd Brow and paints his Face
But a Cold-striking Hand confutes the Ly.
Down falls his Flattering Glass, His Fancies dy.
His Garden-walkes must him no longer know.
The Life-tree in his Garden doth not grow.
His Palace must be chang'd for a dark Tomb,
That was his Inn, but this must be his Home.
He must no longer at his Table stay,
The Voider (Death) is come to take away.
Death, that abhorr'd (both Name and) thing, comes on,
And potently torments this potent One.
It makes amazing breaches, and in short
Hath Seiz'd the out-works and attacks the Fort.
In what a wretched posture does he Ly!
He cannot Live, and yet he dares not dy.
His Debt must be distrain'd; For he'l not pay
Nor yield his Ghost; It must be fetch'd away.
He Sprunts, he struggles; But Death keeps him under,
And with one stroke tears Flesh and Soul asunder.
Then rang the House with his five Brethrens cries,
Alas, our Brother! So they clos'd his Eyes.
His outward parts are wash'd; His inner Rooms
Stuff'd with Arabian Sweets and rich perfumes.
Now Death his Purple is. Now he's allow'd
Fine Linnen too: But 'tis a Funeral Shroud.
Grave-fac'd Spectatours with their Garments torn
And Shrouded Lips attend. The Room doth mourn.
Ah what a poor revenge is this on Fate,
For him that cannot Live, to ly in state!
Amidst the Gazing-Crowd the Bearers come,
With pomp they bring him to his painted Tomb.
Minstrels and Trumpeters their Noises joyn,
And Women sell false tears for Currant coyn.
Now least his Friends should in Salt streams be drown'd
The Cup of consolation goes its round.
But stay, my Soul; 'Tis Death that thou must view,
Not Shadowes which dead Bodies do Ensue.
How is he Blest! How is he Entertain'd!
Tho' Virtue here on Earth neglected lies,
Yet Heaven will raise it. For 'tis born to rise.
Dives, that Silken Cod, must never dy
Unless his Creatures and false prophets ly.
6
His Body, as it is below his Mind,
He's alwayes young; He learns it from his Glass,
Which smoothes his furrow'd Brow and paints his Face
But a Cold-striking Hand confutes the Ly.
Down falls his Flattering Glass, His Fancies dy.
His Garden-walkes must him no longer know.
The Life-tree in his Garden doth not grow.
His Palace must be chang'd for a dark Tomb,
That was his Inn, but this must be his Home.
He must no longer at his Table stay,
The Voider (Death) is come to take away.
Death, that abhorr'd (both Name and) thing, comes on,
And potently torments this potent One.
It makes amazing breaches, and in short
Hath Seiz'd the out-works and attacks the Fort.
In what a wretched posture does he Ly!
He cannot Live, and yet he dares not dy.
His Debt must be distrain'd; For he'l not pay
Nor yield his Ghost; It must be fetch'd away.
He Sprunts, he struggles; But Death keeps him under,
And with one stroke tears Flesh and Soul asunder.
Then rang the House with his five Brethrens cries,
Alas, our Brother! So they clos'd his Eyes.
His outward parts are wash'd; His inner Rooms
Stuff'd with Arabian Sweets and rich perfumes.
Now Death his Purple is. Now he's allow'd
Fine Linnen too: But 'tis a Funeral Shroud.
Grave-fac'd Spectatours with their Garments torn
And Shrouded Lips attend. The Room doth mourn.
Ah what a poor revenge is this on Fate,
For him that cannot Live, to ly in state!
7
With pomp they bring him to his painted Tomb.
Minstrels and Trumpeters their Noises joyn,
And Women sell false tears for Currant coyn.
Now least his Friends should in Salt streams be drown'd
The Cup of consolation goes its round.
But stay, my Soul; 'Tis Death that thou must view,
Not Shadowes which dead Bodies do Ensue.
What a dark Notion and abstrusity
Is this to living Men, that they must dy.
Grim Death on his pale Horse triumphant rides.
He strikes us through our nearest Kinsmans sides.
Yet are we Senseless as the Stupid Mule,
Live as Exceptious from the common Rule.
We cast a Cloth o're Death; 'tis soon forgot.
We Charm the Serpent and it stings us not.
Is this to living Men, that they must dy.
Grim Death on his pale Horse triumphant rides.
He strikes us through our nearest Kinsmans sides.
Yet are we Senseless as the Stupid Mule,
Live as Exceptious from the common Rule.
We cast a Cloth o're Death; 'tis soon forgot.
We Charm the Serpent and it stings us not.
Now might one let this pleasant Errour pass,
If Death was all. But Death his Second has.
When once the dissolution-hour is come,
Out goes the Soul to hear her Final Doom.
If Death was all. But Death his Second has.
When once the dissolution-hour is come,
Out goes the Soul to hear her Final Doom.
You who have Slightly heard the Funeral-Knell,
Now hear the voice which Dooms thy Ghost to Hell.
For those whose Hearts an Earthquake will not Shake,
Thro' Heavens loud-roaring Cannons may awake.
Now hear the voice which Dooms thy Ghost to Hell.
For those whose Hearts an Earthquake will not Shake,
Thro' Heavens loud-roaring Cannons may awake.
Dives black Ghost (all horrour and despair)
Is from its Prison Snatch'd to th'dismal Bar.
Behind him the impatient Devils roar.
His Sins (those worst of Devils) stand before.
With terrours thus besieg'd in every place,
He hears a Voice, but might not see the Face.
The Voice was roaring Thunder in his Ears.
The words were tearing Bolts and Flaming Spears.
“Go thou accurst. Vile Caitife, hence away
“To damned Ghosts. Come Devils take your prey.
Struck with this Thunder, down he sunk, he fell,
And was a triumph to the Fiends of Hell.
Th'ingenious Tyrants did a Council pack,
Their Malice set their wits upon the wrack.
When they had joyntly study'd to Torment,
For their pale prisoner then in hast they sent.
They Chain'd and stak'd him to a furious Flame,
Where constant streames of Brimstone feed the same.
Behold Sins Martyr, and Hells Sacrifice!
He Yells and howles and Vents unpity'd cries.
He finds no Friendly Ear or tender Ey.
He feels a thousand Deaths but cannot dy.
Like burning Brass he's Fir'd in every part.
A Vultur lives upon his Living heart.
God's gone, he's gone. And what an Hell is this
To be depriv'd of everlasting Bliss!
O this Eternal Banishment is worse
Then all the Remnant of the Dooms-day curse.
This Hell of Hell may thus be understood,
No torments are so bad as God is good.
Besides an Appetite in Man doth ly.
Which nothing but a God can satisfy.
And tho' this Appetite be here deluded
By Various objects, in Gods room obtruded.
Yet when at Death all these are laid aside,
Then thirsts the Soul for God, but is deny'd.
This thirst unquench'd is such an inward Flame,
An Hell in Hell is its deserved Name.
In Hell there cannot be an Atheist.
'Tis Hell in Hell that God is dearly mist.
Is from its Prison Snatch'd to th'dismal Bar.
Behind him the impatient Devils roar.
His Sins (those worst of Devils) stand before.
8
He hears a Voice, but might not see the Face.
The Voice was roaring Thunder in his Ears.
The words were tearing Bolts and Flaming Spears.
“Go thou accurst. Vile Caitife, hence away
“To damned Ghosts. Come Devils take your prey.
Struck with this Thunder, down he sunk, he fell,
And was a triumph to the Fiends of Hell.
Th'ingenious Tyrants did a Council pack,
Their Malice set their wits upon the wrack.
When they had joyntly study'd to Torment,
For their pale prisoner then in hast they sent.
They Chain'd and stak'd him to a furious Flame,
Where constant streames of Brimstone feed the same.
Behold Sins Martyr, and Hells Sacrifice!
He Yells and howles and Vents unpity'd cries.
He finds no Friendly Ear or tender Ey.
He feels a thousand Deaths but cannot dy.
Like burning Brass he's Fir'd in every part.
A Vultur lives upon his Living heart.
God's gone, he's gone. And what an Hell is this
To be depriv'd of everlasting Bliss!
O this Eternal Banishment is worse
Then all the Remnant of the Dooms-day curse.
This Hell of Hell may thus be understood,
No torments are so bad as God is good.
Besides an Appetite in Man doth ly.
Which nothing but a God can satisfy.
And tho' this Appetite be here deluded
By Various objects, in Gods room obtruded.
Yet when at Death all these are laid aside,
Then thirsts the Soul for God, but is deny'd.
9
An Hell in Hell is its deserved Name.
In Hell there cannot be an Atheist.
'Tis Hell in Hell that God is dearly mist.
Poor Dives cries, “The God, for whom I Starve,
“I cannot see, because I would not serve,
“I bleed to think (and thinking is my Fate)
“He often Knocked at my Bolted Gate.
“Where are those Baits on which my lusts did prey,
“The price for which I cast my self away?
“Where now's my pomp and pride, my Feasts and sports,
“Whose Chains detain'd me from the Sacred Courts?
“O did my House so near the Temple stand!
“O did I perish out of Judahs Land!
“Might I be try'd once more! But 'tis too late.
“Justice hath Lock'd the Golden Mercy-Gate.
“Now I believe, and tremble. I repent,
“But my Repentance is my punishment.
“It is not Virtue but necessity.
“Alas how miserably wise am I?
“Might I return now to that happy Night
“Which veil'd me e're my Parents saw the Light,
“Ah me! must I ly here! and ne're come out?
He raves and flings his curses round about.
He curs'd both Heaven and Hell, he curs'd the Earth.
He curs'd the day that witness'd to his Birth.
But neither can his tears his griefs asswage.
Nor does it cool his Heart to vent his Rage.
This keen reflection makes the Furnace Glow.
“It must be ever with me as 'tis now.
“Hells Flames no Ashes will produce: But I
“Must ever dying Live, and Living dy.
“Soules for themselves the Balm of Patience bear.
“'Tis the Poors Physick, but it growes not here,
“My Soul is fill'd with Home-bred tears and Taunts.
“'Tis its own Fury. And it self it haunts.
“Pity was wont in miseries House to dwell,
“But I am hailed by the Hounds of Hell.
“Time us'd to be a Surgeon good at Wounds
“But I am got beyond its happy Bounds.
“A Vessel charg'd with Scalding wrath am I
“Hoop'd in the Circle of Eternity.
“I cannot see, because I would not serve,
“I bleed to think (and thinking is my Fate)
“He often Knocked at my Bolted Gate.
“Where are those Baits on which my lusts did prey,
“The price for which I cast my self away?
“Where now's my pomp and pride, my Feasts and sports,
“Whose Chains detain'd me from the Sacred Courts?
“O did my House so near the Temple stand!
“O did I perish out of Judahs Land!
“Might I be try'd once more! But 'tis too late.
“Justice hath Lock'd the Golden Mercy-Gate.
“Now I believe, and tremble. I repent,
“But my Repentance is my punishment.
“It is not Virtue but necessity.
“Alas how miserably wise am I?
“Might I return now to that happy Night
“Which veil'd me e're my Parents saw the Light,
“Ah me! must I ly here! and ne're come out?
He raves and flings his curses round about.
He curs'd both Heaven and Hell, he curs'd the Earth.
He curs'd the day that witness'd to his Birth.
But neither can his tears his griefs asswage.
Nor does it cool his Heart to vent his Rage.
This keen reflection makes the Furnace Glow.
“It must be ever with me as 'tis now.
“Hells Flames no Ashes will produce: But I
“Must ever dying Live, and Living dy.
10
“'Tis the Poors Physick, but it growes not here,
“My Soul is fill'd with Home-bred tears and Taunts.
“'Tis its own Fury. And it self it haunts.
“Pity was wont in miseries House to dwell,
“But I am hailed by the Hounds of Hell.
“Time us'd to be a Surgeon good at Wounds
“But I am got beyond its happy Bounds.
“A Vessel charg'd with Scalding wrath am I
“Hoop'd in the Circle of Eternity.
You who affect the pleasant path to Hell,
And Love damnation in its causes well,
Look straight before you on your Journeys End.
Do ye not see th'infernal Smoak ascend?
Have not some Sparks into your Bosomes Flown,
Whereby the Neighb'ring coasts may well be known.
Bold Sinner, stop. No further progress make.
Least your next step be in the Fiery Lake.
But, Oh! He ridicules his Soules Affairs
And labours to be damn'd at unawares.
His humour will not bear a Countermand,
Alas for them who hate to understand!
Who on their Soules Experiments will try
At the charge of a sad Eternity
Alas for them, who never will awake.
Till they are plung'd into the burning Lake!
And Love damnation in its causes well,
Look straight before you on your Journeys End.
Do ye not see th'infernal Smoak ascend?
Have not some Sparks into your Bosomes Flown,
Whereby the Neighb'ring coasts may well be known.
Bold Sinner, stop. No further progress make.
Least your next step be in the Fiery Lake.
But, Oh! He ridicules his Soules Affairs
And labours to be damn'd at unawares.
His humour will not bear a Countermand,
Alas for them who hate to understand!
Who on their Soules Experiments will try
At the charge of a sad Eternity
Alas for them, who never will awake.
Till they are plung'd into the burning Lake!
Dives was here struck blind with Flatt'ring lies.
Now the Hell-brand lifts up his Flaming Eyes.
He spies the Region where the happy dwell,
But Heaven at distance is another Hell.
He spies a Canaans Feast; For chiefly there,
The Natives of his Country do appear.
He spies Blest Abraham with his faithful Race,
And Lazarus sitting next to Abrahams place.
Oh! How it twinges and torments his Eyes?
His scorn to Envy turns; And thus he cries,
“The Scoundrel who lay Starving at my Gate,
“Is now a Peer in Heaven, an Angels Mate.
“The Beggar sits and Feeds on Angels Fare.
“His Rags are Robes, such as Heavens Nobles wear.
“The Dog whom in derision once I had,
“Is turn'd into a Star, which makes me Mad.
Now the Hell-brand lifts up his Flaming Eyes.
He spies the Region where the happy dwell,
But Heaven at distance is another Hell.
11
The Natives of his Country do appear.
He spies Blest Abraham with his faithful Race,
And Lazarus sitting next to Abrahams place.
Oh! How it twinges and torments his Eyes?
His scorn to Envy turns; And thus he cries,
“The Scoundrel who lay Starving at my Gate,
“Is now a Peer in Heaven, an Angels Mate.
“The Beggar sits and Feeds on Angels Fare.
“His Rags are Robes, such as Heavens Nobles wear.
“The Dog whom in derision once I had,
“Is turn'd into a Star, which makes me Mad.
Now Dives is the Beggar, and applies
Himself to Abraham with his mournfull cries.
Himself to Abraham with his mournfull cries.
| Spiritual Songs, or, Songs of Praise to Almighty God Upon several Occasions | |