University of Virginia Library

SONNETS

Sonet 1.

While (mine owne glasse), vpon myself I looke,
Examining how (heere) my part is plaid,
Reading in conscience's accusing Booke,
Of pretious Time how meane account I made,
What hideous Formes my frighted Eyes vpbrade,
Reflecting from the Mirror of my mynd:
Abortiue Flowrs which in the blossome fade,
Most of my labours past, alone I find.
Eternall Ivstice, Thou who (vndeclynd)
To everie Worke proportions the Reward,
Pittie my folyes past: with Sprite refynd
So shall I praise Thee, who my paths repaird;
So from Egyptian Brick and Clay set free,
My Songs shall only, only bee of Thee.

Sonet 2.

Bvt while my Sprite aboue the spheares aspyres,
And from the World would separation make,
Myne Eyes repyning at my Soules desyres,
With Lot's fond Wife, relenting looks cast backe.
Thou, whose consuming breath her soyle did sacke,
All Lets, my flight which doe empeach, remove:
Wing my affection that in word, in act,
From Earth sequestred I may vpwards move,
There, where around Thee, Wisdome, Iustice, Loue.
Truth, Mercie with extended wings, abide,
With numbrous hostes all number farre aboue,
Of Sprites which in eternity them hyde:
O lead me thither, thither make mee runne:
Perfite thy worke, (Good Lord), in mee begunne.

Sonet 3.

My wayes, my wandrings all to Thee are knowne,
No strength to stand (Lord) of my selfe I haue;
I breath in bondage, so am not mine owne,
Emancipat to Sinne, so Sathan's slave.
No stinking carion, halfe consumd in graue,
My leprous soule in loathsomenesse exceeds.
Thy glorious Image how defacd I haue
While I record, my heart for horror bleeds.
Sweete Reconcealer, Thou who pardon pleads
To sin-chargd soules, which, faynting, groane for grace,
Thy Mercie measure not with my misdeeds;
Thy wandring chyld, turnd home at length, embrace,
Who brutishly mongst beasts, (with ackorns fed),
Too long, a shamefull, swynish life haue led.

Sonet 4.

O Three times happie, if the day of grace
In my dark soule did, (though but dimly), dawne;
If to my strugling thoughts proclaimd were peace;
If from mine eyes the vaile of darknesse drawne;
If once the seed of true Repentance sawne
Made gushing streames leave furrowes on my face;
Sinne's menstruous rags in pure transparent laune
Were chang't; O then how happie were my cace!
So darknesse paths no more my feete should trace,
So ever on a quyet conscience feast.
Repentance planted so should vice displace,
So clenst from sinne, sinne's filth I should detest,
Grace, Light, Repentance, inward peace I crave,
Grant these, good Lord, for mee thy selfe who gave.

Sonet 5.

Awake mee, (Lord,) from fancie's charming dreame,
My Sprit rowze vp from lethargie of sloath:
With doubled pace, O give mee to redeeme
My time mispent, the errors of my youth.
Hence let my taske bee thy eternall Truth,
Free from vaine fictions of distempred brains:
Grant what Thou addst vnto my years of grouth
Good seed may prove, cast on more fertile plains.
Set to the key of grace, tune all my straines
From lawlesse stryfe, fred from conceits prophaine,
Which poyson doe with gall the sweetest veines,
And, with the Sprit of lyes, most sprits enchaine.
My sprit with thine inspire; on wings mee raise.
Lord, henceforth let my tongue sound foorth thy praise.

Sonet 6.

Since that vast orbe, which doth the rest embrace,
More swift than thoght still whirls about times wheele;
Since years' serpentine course, with speedy pace,
Doth a continuall revolution feele;
Since houres still slyde, still life away doth steale,
Why then, my soule, heere art thou luld asleepe?
As if on Earth's low stage were placd thy Well,
In streams of slyding pleasurs drencht too deepe:
Breake off thy dreame: from world's basse fetters creepe,
Thy soveraine Good with eyes vnsyld to view:
Ryse from earth's vaile to climbe that Mountaine steepe,
The only station of contentment true.
Sooth no thy selfe, my soule; shake of delay:
Life's Flowre both spreidth and fadeth in a day.

Sonet 7.

As waue doth waue, so day doth day displace;
Time's clock goes quickly: Moments swiftly slyde:
The longest Age scare doth a minut's space,
If with eternity compaird, abyde.
Yet Mortals, charg'd with madnesse, fraught with pryde,
Day-livers, dreame to see the world's last date:
Guyle held no guilt, craft they with craft doe hyde,
Sinne heap on sinne, deceat vpon deceat;
No paine is spair'd to gaine the name of Great,
Prizde with contempt, aym'd at by few, is Good
But Ah! and buildst thou vp a slipry state
With pressing vsury, with bribes, with bloode,
Madde Man, yet dost not, neither wilst take heede,
Thy Life ore hell hings by a slender threed.

Sonet 8.

If Lines which Sphears in equall shares divyde,
But once the Center, twice the Circle touch,
Like slow-pac'd snails, why then still doe wee crouch,
Still craule on earth, on earth still grov'ling bide?
Let fayth our flight aboue Heaven's circuits guide
Where wee should dwell, redoubling our desires.
The Doue, no rest heere finding, streight retyres,
But in our Prison plac'd is all our pride.
As all the vast inferiour orbs of Heaven,
By proper pace, vnsensibly are rold,
But hurld about, with motion vncontrold,
Are by the Highest violently driven,
O Mover first, let mee thy motion proue
In grace, who rather retrograde than moue.

Sonet 9.

A constant course, heere, Lord each creature keeps,
Not swarving from thine ordinance their ends:
Earth vnsustained stands, in showrs ayre weeps,
Fyre vpward, water to the Center tends.
The Sunne in his Ecliptick, mounts, descends,
Oblicklie runnes, with Tropics two confynd,
Whose course the years alternat seasons sends;
Seas ne're transgresse the Limits thou assing'd.
But Man, in whom thy vive Character shynd,
That lytle World, of all thy works a Breefe,
Made Lord of All, of all hath most declynd
From thy obedience. O tears! O griefe!
Man to the Angels whom Thou didst preferre,
From his Creation's end doth only erre.

Sonet 10.

My lif's fraile Barge, with an impetuous tyde,
Is on this world's tempestuous Ocean tost:
For me, as for our second Sire, provyde
A saving Ark, O Lord, or I am lost.
Or as thy people, (while proud Pharaoh's hoast
Seas overwhelmd,) through floods firme passage fand.
A Vessell weake, Mee save, at too much cost
Redeem't to bee depriv'd of promis'd Land.
As earst to Peter, Lord, streach foorth thine hand,
On liquid floare while as his fayth did faynt:
Let not betwixt mee and thy mercie stand
That I a sinner vile, hee liv'd a Saint.
Thy Glorie greater, greater is thy praise,
Mee a dead Lazare, from sinne's grave to raise.

Sonet. To the Blessed Trinitie.

Essence vnmov'd, whose Word made all things move,
Earth's pondrous Orbe midst Ayre who ballanst even,
By Discords sweete, who tun'd the ten-stringt Heaven,
God rich in Mercie, infinite in Love,
Light out of Light, O life who death didst prove,
Lost Earthlings to redeeme, depriv'd of grace;
Child full of wonder, glorious Prince of Peace,
Begotten, from Eternitie, aboue;
O Holy Ghost, sweete sanctifying Sprit
From both proceeding: All, in essence One,
Most sacred Triade: first and last alone,
Three vndividuall, Trinally vnite,
Father, Sonne, Holy Ghost, God, One in Three
And three in One! for ever blessed bee.