 | The Poems and Sonnets of Henry Constable |  |
lxxxiv
SPIRITUALL SONNETTES TO THE HONOUR OF GOD & HYS SAYNTES. BY H. C.
lxxxv
TO GOD THE FATHER.
Greate God, within whose symple essence wee
Nothyng but that which ys thy selfe can fynde,
When on thy self thou dydd'st reflect thy mynde,
Thy thought was God, which tooke the forme of thee;
Nothyng but that which ys thy selfe can fynde,
When on thy self thou dydd'st reflect thy mynde,
Thy thought was God, which tooke the forme of thee;
And when this God, thus borne, thou lov'st, and hee
Lov'd thee agayne, with passion of lyke kynde,
(As lovers' syghes, which meete become one wynde),
Both breath'd one spryght of æquall Deitye.
Lov'd thee agayne, with passion of lyke kynde,
(As lovers' syghes, which meete become one wynde),
Both breath'd one spryght of æquall Deitye.
Æternall Father, whence theis twoe doe come,
And wil'st the tytle of my Father have,
An heavenly knowledge in my minde engrave,
That yt thy Sonne's true Image may become;
And sente my hart with syghes of holy Love,
That yt the temple of the Spright may prove.
And wil'st the tytle of my Father have,
An heavenly knowledge in my minde engrave,
That yt thy Sonne's true Image may become;
And sente my hart with syghes of holy Love,
That yt the temple of the Spright may prove.
lxxxvi
TO GOD THE SONNE.
Greate Prynce of heaven, begotten of that Kyng
Who rules the kyngdome that himself dyd make;
And of that vyrgyn-Queene man's shape did take,
Which from kynge Davyd's royal stock dyd sprynge;
Who rules the kyngdome that himself dyd make;
And of that vyrgyn-Queene man's shape did take,
Which from kynge Davyd's royal stock dyd sprynge;
No mervayle though thy byrth mayd angells synge,
And angells' dyttes shepehyrdes' pipes awake;
And kynges lyke shepehyrdes, humbled for thy sake,
Kneele at thy feete, & guyftes of homage brynge.
And angells' dyttes shepehyrdes' pipes awake;
And kynges lyke shepehyrdes, humbled for thy sake,
Kneele at thy feete, & guyftes of homage brynge.
For heaven & earth, the hyghe & lowe estate,
As partners of thy byrth make æquall clayme:
Angells, because in heaven God the begatt,
Sheepehyrdes & kynges, because thy mother came
From pryncely race, & yet, by povertye,
Mayd glory shyne in her humillitye.
As partners of thy byrth make æquall clayme:
Angells, because in heaven God the begatt,
Sheepehyrdes & kynges, because thy mother came
From pryncely race, & yet, by povertye,
Mayd glory shyne in her humillitye.
lxxxvii
TO GOD THE HOLY-GHOST.
Eternall Spryght: which art in heaven the Love
With which God and his Sonne ech other kysse;
And who, to shewe who God's beloved ys,
The shape and wynges took'st of a loving dove;
With which God and his Sonne ech other kysse;
And who, to shewe who God's beloved ys,
The shape and wynges took'st of a loving dove;
When Chryste, ascendyng, sent the from above
In fyery tongues, thou cam'st downe unto hys,
That skyll in utteryng heavenly mysteryes,
By heate of zeale, both faith & love myght move.
In fyery tongues, thou cam'st downe unto hys,
That skyll in utteryng heavenly mysteryes,
By heate of zeale, both faith & love myght move.
True God of Love, from whom all true love sprynges,
Bestowe upon my love thy wynges & fyre,
My sowle a spyrytt ys, & with thy wynges
May lyke an aungell fly from earth's desyre;
And with thy fyre a hart inflam'd may beare,
And in thy syght a Seraphin appeare.
Bestowe upon my love thy wynges & fyre,
My sowle a spyrytt ys, & with thy wynges
May lyke an aungell fly from earth's desyre;
And with thy fyre a hart inflam'd may beare,
And in thy syght a Seraphin appeare.
lxxxviii
TO THE BLESSED SACRAMENT.
When thee (o holy sacrificed Lambe)
In severed sygnes I whyte & liquid see,
As in thy body slayne I thynke on thee,
Which pale by sheddyng of thy bloode became.
In severed sygnes I whyte & liquid see,
As in thy body slayne I thynke on thee,
Which pale by sheddyng of thy bloode became.
And when agayne I doe behold the same
Vayled in whyte to be receav'd of mee,
Thou seemest in thy syndon wrapt to bee
Like to a corse, whose monument I am.
Vayled in whyte to be receav'd of mee,
Thou seemest in thy syndon wrapt to bee
Like to a corse, whose monument I am.
Buryed in mee, unto my soule appeare,
Pryson'd in earth, & bannisht from thy syght,
Lyke our forefathers who in lymbo were,
Cleere thou my thoughtes, as thou did'st gyve them light,
And as thou others freed from purgyng fyre
Quenche in my hart the flames of badd desyre.
Pryson'd in earth, & bannisht from thy syght,
Lyke our forefathers who in lymbo were,
Cleere thou my thoughtes, as thou did'st gyve them light,
And as thou others freed from purgyng fyre
Quenche in my hart the flames of badd desyre.
lxxxix
TO OUR BLESSED LADY.
In that (O Queene of Queenes) thy byrth was free
From guylt, which others do of grace bereave,
When in theyr mother's wombe they lyfe receave,
God as his sole-borne daughter loved thee.
From guylt, which others do of grace bereave,
When in theyr mother's wombe they lyfe receave,
God as his sole-borne daughter loved thee.
To matche thee, lyke thy byrth's nobillitye,
He thee hys Spyryt for thy spouse dyd leave,
Of whome thou dydd'st his onely Sonne conceave,
And so wast lynk'd to all the Trinitye.
He thee hys Spyryt for thy spouse dyd leave,
Of whome thou dydd'st his onely Sonne conceave,
And so wast lynk'd to all the Trinitye.
Cease then, O Queenes who earthly crownes do weare,
To glory in the pompe of worldly thynges;
If men such hyghe respect unto yow beare
Which daughters, wyves, & mothers ar of kynges,
What honour should unto that Queene be donne
Who had your God for father, spouse & sonne!
To glory in the pompe of worldly thynges;
If men such hyghe respect unto yow beare
Which daughters, wyves, & mothers ar of kynges,
What honour should unto that Queene be donne
Who had your God for father, spouse & sonne!
xc
To ST. MYCHAELL THE ARCHANGEL.
When as the prynce of angells, puff'd with pryde,
Styrr'd his seditious spyrittes to rebell,
God choose for cheife his champion Michaell;
And gave hym charge the hoste of heaven to guyde.
Styrr'd his seditious spyrittes to rebell,
God choose for cheife his champion Michaell;
And gave hym charge the hoste of heaven to guyde.
And when the Angells of the rebells' syde
Vanquisht in battayle from theyr glory fell,
The pryde of heaven became the drake of hell,
And in the dungeon of dispayre was tyed.
Vanquisht in battayle from theyr glory fell,
The pryde of heaven became the drake of hell,
And in the dungeon of dispayre was tyed.
Thys dragon, synce lett loose, God's Church assail'd,
And shee by helpe of Mychaell's swoarde prevail'd.
Who ever try'd adventures lyke thys knyght;
Which, generall of heaven, hell overthrewe?
For such a lady as God's spouse dyd fyght,
And such a monster as the Dyvell subdue?
And shee by helpe of Mychaell's swoarde prevail'd.
Who ever try'd adventures lyke thys knyght;
Which, generall of heaven, hell overthrewe?
For such a lady as God's spouse dyd fyght,
And such a monster as the Dyvell subdue?
xci
TO ST. JHON BAPTIST.
As Anne, longe barren, Mother dyd become
Of hym who last was Judge in Israell,
Thou, last of prophetts borne, lyke Samuell,
Dydd'st from a wombe past hope of issue come.
Of hym who last was Judge in Israell,
Thou, last of prophetts borne, lyke Samuell,
Dydd'st from a wombe past hope of issue come.
Hys mother sylent spake; thy father, dombe,
Recoveryng speache, God's wonder dyd foretell;
He after death a prophet was in hell;
And thou unborne within thy mother's wombe.
Recoveryng speache, God's wonder dyd foretell;
He after death a prophet was in hell;
And thou unborne within thy mother's wombe.
He dyd annoynte the kynge, whom God dyd take
From charge of sheepe to rule his chosen land;
But that highe Kynge who heaven & earth did make
Receav'd a holyer lyquour from thy hand,
When God his flocke in humayne shape did feede,
As Israell's kynge kept his in sheepehird's weede.
From charge of sheepe to rule his chosen land;
But that highe Kynge who heaven & earth did make
Receav'd a holyer lyquour from thy hand,
When God his flocke in humayne shape did feede,
As Israell's kynge kept his in sheepehird's weede.
xcii
TO ST. PETER AND ST. PAUL.
He that for feare hys mayster dyd denye,
And at a mayden's voyce amazed stoode,
The myghtyest monarche of the earth withstoode,
And on his mayster's crosse rejoyc'd to dye.
And at a mayden's voyce amazed stoode,
The myghtyest monarche of the earth withstoode,
And on his mayster's crosse rejoyc'd to dye.
He whose blynde zeale dyd rage with crueltye,
And helpt to shedd the fyrst of martyrs' bloode,
By lyght from heaven hys blyndenesse understoode,
And with the cheife Apostle slayne doth lye.
And helpt to shedd the fyrst of martyrs' bloode,
By lyght from heaven hys blyndenesse understoode,
And with the cheife Apostle slayne doth lye.
O three tymes happy twoe; O golden payre!
Who with your bloode dyd lay the church's grounde
Within the fatall towne which twynnes did founde,
And setled there the Hebrew fisher's chayre,
Where fyrst the Latyn sheepehyrd rais'd his throne,
And synce the world & church were rul'd by one.
Who with your bloode dyd lay the church's grounde
Within the fatall towne which twynnes did founde,
And setled there the Hebrew fisher's chayre,
Where fyrst the Latyn sheepehyrd rais'd his throne,
And synce the world & church were rul'd by one.
xciii
TO ST. MARY MAGDALEN.
For fewe nyghtes solace in delitious bedd,
Where heate of luste dyd kyndle flames of hell,
Thou nak'd on naked rocke in desert cell
Lay thirty yeares, and teares of grief dyd shedd.
Where heate of luste dyd kyndle flames of hell,
Thou nak'd on naked rocke in desert cell
Lay thirty yeares, and teares of grief dyd shedd.
But for that tyme thy hart there sorrowed,
Thou now in heaven æternally dost dwell;
And for ech teare which from thyne eyes then fell
A sea of pleasure now ys rendered.
Thou now in heaven æternally dost dwell;
And for ech teare which from thyne eyes then fell
A sea of pleasure now ys rendered.
If short delyghtes entyce my hart to straye,
Lett me by thy longe pennance learne to knowe
How dear I should for triflyng pleasures paye;
And if I vertue's roughe beginnyng shunne,
Lett thy æternall joyes unto me showe
What hyghe rewarde by lyttle paine ys wonne.
Lett me by thy longe pennance learne to knowe
How dear I should for triflyng pleasures paye;
And if I vertue's roughe beginnyng shunne,
Lett thy æternall joyes unto me showe
What hyghe rewarde by lyttle paine ys wonne.
xciv
TO ST. KATHARYNE.
Because thou wast the daughter of a kyng,
Whose beautye dyd all nature's workes exceede,
And wyssdome wonder to the world dyd breede,
A muse myght rayse yt self on Cupid's wynge.
Whose beautye dyd all nature's workes exceede,
And wyssdome wonder to the world dyd breede,
A muse myght rayse yt self on Cupid's wynge.
But syth theys graces which from nature sprynge
Were grac'd by those which from grace dyd proceede,
And glory haith deserv'd, my Muse doth neede
An angell's feathers when thy prayse I synge;
Were grac'd by those which from grace dyd proceede,
And glory haith deserv'd, my Muse doth neede
An angell's feathers when thy prayse I synge;
For all in thee became angelycall;
An angell's face had angells' puritye;
And thou an angell's tongue did'st speake withall.
Loe why thy sowle, sett free by martyrdome,
Was croun'd by God in angells' company,
And angells' handes thy body dyd intombe.
An angell's face had angells' puritye;
And thou an angell's tongue did'st speake withall.
Loe why thy sowle, sett free by martyrdome,
Was croun'd by God in angells' company,
And angells' handes thy body dyd intombe.
xcv
TO ST. MARGARETT.
Fayre Amazon of heaven, who took'st in hand
St. Mychaell & St. George to imitate,
And for a tyrant's love transform'd to hate,
Wast for thy lylly faith retayn'd in bande;
St. Mychaell & St. George to imitate,
And for a tyrant's love transform'd to hate,
Wast for thy lylly faith retayn'd in bande;
Alone on foote, & with thy naked hande
Thou dydd'st lyke Mychaell & his hoste; & that
For which on horse arm'd George we celebrate;
Whylst thou, lyke them, a dragon dydd'st withstand.
Thou dydd'st lyke Mychaell & his hoste; & that
For which on horse arm'd George we celebrate;
Whylst thou, lyke them, a dragon dydd'st withstand.
Behold my sowle shutt in my body's jayle,
The which the drake of hell gapes to devoure;
Teache me, (o virgyn), how thou dydd'st prevayle.
Virginity, thou saiest, was all thy ayde;
Gyve me then purity in steade of power,
And let my soule, mayd chaste, passe for a Mayde.
The which the drake of hell gapes to devoure;
Teache me, (o virgyn), how thou dydd'st prevayle.
Virginity, thou saiest, was all thy ayde;
Gyve me then purity in steade of power,
And let my soule, mayd chaste, passe for a Mayde.
xcvi
TO OUR BLESSED LADY.
Sovereigne of Queenes! if vayne ambition move
My hart to seeke an earthly prynce's grace;
Shewe me thy Sonne in his imperiall place,
Whose servants reigne our kynges & queenes above.
My hart to seeke an earthly prynce's grace;
Shewe me thy Sonne in his imperiall place,
Whose servants reigne our kynges & queenes above.
And if alluryng passions I doe prove
By pleasyng sighes, shewe me thy lovely face;
Whose beames the angells' beuty do deface,
And even inflame the seraphins with love.
By pleasyng sighes, shewe me thy lovely face;
Whose beames the angells' beuty do deface,
And even inflame the seraphins with love.
So by ambition I shall humble bee,
When in the presence of the highest kynge
I serve all his, that he may honour mee.
And love my hart to chaste desyres shall brynge,
When fayrest queene lookes on me from her throne,
And, jealous, byddes me love but her alone.
When in the presence of the highest kynge
I serve all his, that he may honour mee.
And love my hart to chaste desyres shall brynge,
When fayrest queene lookes on me from her throne,
And, jealous, byddes me love but her alone.
xcvii
TO OUR BLESSED LADY.
Why should I any love, O Queene, but thee?
If favour past a thankfull love should breed,
Thy wombe dyd beare, thy brest my Saviour feede;
And thou dyddest never cease to succour me.
If favour past a thankfull love should breed,
Thy wombe dyd beare, thy brest my Saviour feede;
And thou dyddest never cease to succour me.
If love doe followe worth and dignitye,
Thou all in thy perfections doest exceede;
If Love be ledd by hope of future meede,
What pleasure more then thee in heaven to see?
Thou all in thy perfections doest exceede;
If Love be ledd by hope of future meede,
What pleasure more then thee in heaven to see?
An earthly syght doth onely please the eye,
And breedes desyre, but does not satisfye;
Thy sight gyves us possession of all joye,
And with such full delyghtes ech sence shal fyll,
As harte shall wyshe but for to see thee styll,
And ever seyng, ever shall injoye.
And breedes desyre, but does not satisfye;
Thy sight gyves us possession of all joye,
And with such full delyghtes ech sence shal fyll,
As harte shall wyshe but for to see thee styll,
And ever seyng, ever shall injoye.
xcviii
TO OUR BLESSED LADY.
Sweete Queene, although thy beuty rayse upp mee
From syght of baser beutyes here belowe,
Yett lett me not rest there, but higher goe
To hym, who tooke hys shape from God & thee.
From syght of baser beutyes here belowe,
Yett lett me not rest there, but higher goe
To hym, who tooke hys shape from God & thee.
And if thy forme in hym more fayre I see,
What pleasure from his deity shall flowe,
By whose fayre beames his beutye shineth so,
When I shall yt behold æternally.
What pleasure from his deity shall flowe,
By whose fayre beames his beutye shineth so,
When I shall yt behold æternally.
Then shall my love of pleasure have his fyll,
When beuty self, in whom all pleasure ys,
Shall my enamored sowle embrace & kysse;
And shall newe loves, & newe delyghtes distyll,
Which from my sowle shall gushe into my hart,
And through my body flowe to every part.
When beuty self, in whom all pleasure ys,
Shall my enamored sowle embrace & kysse;
And shall newe loves, & newe delyghtes distyll,
Which from my sowle shall gushe into my hart,
And through my body flowe to every part.
xcix
TO ST. MARY MAGDALEN.
Blessed offendour, who thy self haist try'd
How farr a synner dyffers from a Saynt,
Joyne thy wett eyes with teares of my complaint,
While I sighe for that grave for which thou cry'd.
How farr a synner dyffers from a Saynt,
Joyne thy wett eyes with teares of my complaint,
While I sighe for that grave for which thou cry'd.
No longer let my synfull sowle abyde
In feaver of thy first desyres faynte;
But lett that love which last thy hart did taynt
With panges of thy repentance pierce my syde.
In feaver of thy first desyres faynte;
But lett that love which last thy hart did taynt
With panges of thy repentance pierce my syde.
So shall my sowle no foolysh vyrgyn bee,
With empty lampe; but lyke a Magdalen beere,
For oyntment boxe, a breast with oyle of grace;
And so the zeale which then shall burne in mee
May make my hart lyke to a lampe appere,
And in my spouse's pallace gyve me place.
With empty lampe; but lyke a Magdalen beere,
For oyntment boxe, a breast with oyle of grace;
And so the zeale which then shall burne in mee
May make my hart lyke to a lampe appere,
And in my spouse's pallace gyve me place.
c
TO ST. MARY MAGDALEN.
Such as retyr'd from sight of men, lyke thee
By pennance seeke the joyes of heaven to wynne,
In desartes make theyr paradyce begynne,
And even amongst wylde beastes do angells see.
By pennance seeke the joyes of heaven to wynne,
In desartes make theyr paradyce begynne,
And even amongst wylde beastes do angells see.
In such a place my sowle doth seeme to bee
When in my body she laments her synne;
And none but brutall passions fyndes therin,
Except they be sent down from heaven to mee.
When in my body she laments her synne;
And none but brutall passions fyndes therin,
Except they be sent down from heaven to mee.
Yett if those graces God to me impart
Which He inspyr'd thy blessed brest withall,
I may fynde heaven in my retyred hart;
And if thou change the object of my love,
The wyng'd affection which men Cupid call
May gett his syght, & like an angell prove.
Which He inspyr'd thy blessed brest withall,
I may fynde heaven in my retyred hart;
And if thou change the object of my love,
The wyng'd affection which men Cupid call
May gett his syght, & like an angell prove.
ci
TO ST. MARY MAGDALEN.
Sweete Saynt, thow better canst declare to me
What pleasure ys obteyn'd by heavenly love
Then they whych other loves dyd never prove,
Or which in sexe ar differyng from thee.
What pleasure ys obteyn'd by heavenly love
Then they whych other loves dyd never prove,
Or which in sexe ar differyng from thee.
For lyke a woman spowse my sowle shal bee,
Whom synfull passions once to lust did move,
And synce betrothed to God's sonne above,
Should be enamored with his deitye.
Whom synfull passions once to lust did move,
And synce betrothed to God's sonne above,
Should be enamored with his deitye.
My body ys the garment of my spryght,
Whyle as the day tyme of my lyfe doth last;
When death shall brynge the nyght of my delight,
My soule, uncloth'd, shall rest from labours past;
And, clasped in the armes of God, injoye,
By sweete conjunction, everlastyng joye.
Whyle as the day tyme of my lyfe doth last;
When death shall brynge the nyght of my delight,
My soule, uncloth'd, shall rest from labours past;
And, clasped in the armes of God, injoye,
By sweete conjunction, everlastyng joye.
Amen. Amen. Amen.
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