A Collection of Miscellanies Consisting of Poems, Essays, Discourses & Letters, Occasionally Written. By John Norris ... The Second Edition Corrected |
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The Passion of our B. Saviour represented in a Pindarique Ode.
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 | A Collection of Miscellanies |  |
1
The Passion of our B. Saviour represented in a Pindarique Ode.
------ Quis talia fando
Temperet a Lachrymis? ------
Temperet a Lachrymis? ------
I.
Say bold Licentious Muse,What Noble Subject wilt thou chuse;
Of what great Hero, of what mighty thing,
Wilt thou in boundless numbers sing?
Sing the unfathom'd Depths of Love,
(For who the Wonders done by Love can tell,
By Love, which is it self all Miracle?)
Here in vast endless Circles may'st thou rove,
And like the travelling Planet of the day
In an Orb unbounded stray.
Sing the great Miracle of Love Divine,
Great be thy Genius, sparkling every Line,
Love's greatest Mystery reherse:
Greater then that
Which on the teeming Chaos brooding sate,
And hatch'd, with kindly heat, the Universe.
How God in Mercy chose to bleed, and dye,
To rescue Man from Misery,
Man, not his Creature only, but his Enemy.
II.
Lo, in Gethsemane, I see him prostrate lye,Press'd with the weight of his great Agony.
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To vent his mighty Passion won't suffice,
His tortured Body weeps all-o're,
And out of every Pore
Buds forth a precious Gem of Purple Gore.
How strange the power of Afflictions rod
When in the Hand of an incensed God!
Like the commanding Wand
In Moses Hand
It works a Miracle, and turns the Flood
Of Tears into a Sea of Blood.
See with what Pomp Sorrow does now appear!
How proud She is of being feated here!
She never wore
So rich a Dye before.
Long was he willing to decline
Th' Encounter of the Wrath Divine.
Thrice he sent for his Release
Pathetic Embassies of Peace,
At length his Courage overcame his Doubt,
Resolv'd he was, and so the bloody Flagg hung out.
III.
And now the Tragic Scene's displai'd,Where drawn in full Battalia are laid
Before his Eyes
That numerous Host of Miseries
He must withstand, that Map of Woe
Which he must undergo.
That heavy Wine-press which must by him be trod,
The whole Artillery of God.
He saw that Face whose very Sight
Chears Angels with its Beatifie Light,
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All cloath'd with Thunder, big with death
And Showers of hot burning Wrath,
Which shortly must be poured down,
He saw a black and disal Scroll,
Of Sins past, present, and to come,
With their intolerable Doom
Which would the more oppress his spotless Soul;
As th' Elements are weighty proved
When from their Native Station they'r removed.
He saw the foul Ingratitude of those
Who would the Labours of his Love oppose,
And reap no benefit by all his Agonies.
He saw all this,
And as he saw, to Waver he began,
And almost to repent of his great Love for Man.
IV.
When lo, a heavenly Form all bright and fair,Swifter than Thought shot through th' enlight'ned Air.
He who sat next th' imperial Throne,
And read the Councels of the Great Three-One,
Who in Eternity's Mysterious Glass
Saw both what was, what is, and what must come to pass;
He came with Reverence profound,
And rais'd his prostrate Maker from the Ground;
Wiped off the bloody Sweat
With which his Face and Garments too were wet,
And comforted his dark benighted Mind
With sovereign Cordials of Light refin'd.
This done, in soft addresses he began
To fortifie his kind Designs for Man,
Unseal'd to him the Book of Gods Decree:
And shew'd him what must be,
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Types, Figures, and Mysteries,
How needful it was to supply
With humane Race the ruins of the Skie.
How this would new accession bring
To the Celestial Quire,
And how withall it would inspire
New Matter for the Praise of the great King.
How he should see the travail of his Soul, and bless
Those Sufferings which had so good Success.
How great the Triumphs of his Victory,
How glorious his Ascent would be,
What weighty Bliss in Heaven he should obtain
By a few Hours of Pain,
Where to Eternal Ages he should Reign.
He spake, confirm'd in mind the Champion stood,
A Spirit divine
Through the thick Veil of Flesh did shine,
All over Powerful he was, all over Good.
Pleas'd with his successful Flight,
The Officious Angel posts away
To the bright Regions of Eternal Day,
Departing in a track of Light.
In haste for News the heavenly People ran,
And joy'd to hear the hopeful State of Man.
V.
And now that strange prodigious hour,When God must subject be to humane Power,
That Hour is come,
Th' unerring Clock of Fate has struck,
'Twas heard below down to Hell's lowest Room,
And strait th' Infernal Powers th' appointed signal took,
Open the Scene my Muse, and see
Wonders of Impudence and Villany;
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Dare to invade him whom they should adore,
With Swords and Staves incompass'd round he stands,
Who knew no other Guards but those of Heaven before.
Once with his powerful breath he did repell
The rude assaults of Hell.
A ray of his Divinity
Shot forth with that bold Answer, I am He,
They reel and stagger, and fall to the Ground,
For God was in the Sound.
The Voice of God was once again
Walking in the Garden heard,
And once again was by the guilty Hearers fear'd,
Trembling seiz'd every Joynt, and chilness every Vein.
This little Victory he won,
Shew'd what he could have done.
But he to whom as chief was given
The whole Militia of Heaven,
That Mighty He,
Declines all Guards for his defence,
But that of his inseparable Innocence;
And quietly gives up his Liberty.
He's seiz'd on by the Military bands,
With Cords they bind his sacred hands,
But ah! how weak, what nothings would they prove,
Were he not held by stronger ones of Love.
VI.
Once more, my weary'd Muse, thy Pinions try,And reach the top of Calvary.
A steep Ascent: But most to him who bore
The Burthen of a Cross this way before.
(The Cross ascends, there's something in it sure
That Moral is and mystical,
No Heights of Fortune are from thee secure,
Afflictions sometimes Climb, as well as fall)
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The dolefull'st Picture Sorrow ever drew,
The Lord of Life, Heavens darling Son,
The Great, th' Almighty one,
With out-stretch'd Arms, nail'd to a cursed Tree,
Crown'd with Sharp Thorns, cover'd with Infamy;
He who before
So many Miracles had done,
The Lives of others to restore,
Does with a greater, lose his own:
Full three long hours his tender body did sustain
Most exquisite and poignant pain,
So long the Sympathizing Sun his light withdrew,
And wonder'd how the Stars their dying Lord could view.
VII.
This strange defect of lightDoes all the Sages in Astronomy affright
With fears of an Eternal Night.
Th' Intelligences in their Courses stray,
And Travellers below mistake their way,
Wond'ring to be benighted in the midst of Day.
Each mind is seiz'd with Horror and Despair,
And more o'respread with darkness than the air.
Fear on, 'tis wondrous all and new,
'Tis what past Ages never knew.
Fear on, but yet you'll find
The great Eclipse is still behind.
The lustre of the face Divine
Does on the Mighty Sufferer no longer shine.
God hides his Glories from his sight
With a thick Skreen made of Hell's grossest night.
Close-wrought it was, and Solid all,
Compacted and Substantial,
Impenetrable to the Beatifick light;
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The tortures he endur'd before;
But now no longer able to contain
Under the great Hyperbole of pain,
He mourns, and with a strong Pathetick cry,
Laments the sad Desertion of the Deity.
Here stop my Muse, stop and admire,
The Breather of all Life does now expire;
His Milder Father summons him away,
His Breath obediently he does resign;
Angels to Paradice his Soul convey,
And Calm the Relicts of his grief with Hymns divine.
| A Collection of Miscellanies | |